Just The Way You Are
by SylvieT
Summary: A will they/won't they short story which will be cheery and fun and loving and happy too. With a happy ending, I garantee that. Have I stressed the HAPPY enough? Fluffy GSR, if I can pull it off.
1. Chapter 1

**Just the way you are.**

* * *

Sara stifled another yawn and put the car in park, killing the lights and the engine in one swift move. She was struggling to keep her eyes open, eyelids drooping heavy with fatigue as she wondered how she'd made it back to base safely. She looked over her shoulder toward the dimly-lit car lot and found it deserted with only a few cars dotted about the place.

_I'll take five minutes,_ she told herself. _No one's going to miss me for five short minutes._

Decision made, she reached under the seat and pulled the lever while sliding the seat back on the run as far as it would go. She turned the knob until the back rest lay almost completely horizontal and switched the radio on low. She stretched her long, tired limbs, working the kinks out of her shoulders and spread fully onto the seat with a soft contented moan. It wasn't the most comfortable position but it would do.

_Beggars can't be choosers,_ she thought with a wan smile. _Five minutes shut-eye and you'll be as good as new._

* * *

"You seen Sara?"

Glasses perched on the tip of her nose Catherine looked up from the photo evidence laid out in front of her on the light table and smiled instinctively at seeing Grissom at the door. She shook her head in reply. "No. Last I saw of her was at the beginning of shift."

Grissom pulled a bewildered face. "She should be back by now."

"You sent her solo; she didn't look happy."

"I'll try her cell."

"Good idea, Sherlock."

Grissom sneered good-humouredly at Catherine and left, pulling his cell out of his pants pocket. He quick-dialled Sara's number, muttering under his breath when his call was sent straight to voicemail. "Hi, Sara, it's me. Huh, Grissom. Call me when you get this…you should be back already."

He was putting his cell away, headed back to his office when he literally bumped into Hodges.

"Sorry, boss," Hodges mumbled a little flustered. "Got those results you wanted." He lifted a manila envelope, a smug smile on his face. "I think you'll be pleased."

Grissom nodded distractedly, replaying the message he'd left Sara in his head. _You should be back already. That sounded like a reprimand. Burk!_ "Huh…put them on my desk, David. I'll look at them later."

Hodges did a double take. "You don't want to read them now?"

"No. Have you seen Sara?"

"Nope. Not since…hours ago," Hodges replied glumly.

"Her car's in the lot," Greg chipped in as he walked past, "she can't be far."

Grissom nodded and made to leave.

Greg hurried after him. "Griss, can I have a quick word with you?"

Grissom hesitated and then sighed. "Sure. Come to my office." He pulled the file out of a confused Hodges' hand and led the way to his office. "What can I do for you Greg?"

Looking a little nervous, the young CSI followed Grissom in and took a seat before quickly springing back up to his feet again. Meanwhile, Grissom moved behind his desk, dropped Hodges' results on a tall pile of files and sat down before looking up expectantly toward Greg.

Greg's smile was as stiff as his hair. "Huh…I know it's a little short notice – very short notice in fact but…I need some time off."

"You can't have next shift off Greg, unless you swap with Warrick."

"No. Not tomorrow - this weekend. I need this whole weekend off because there's this…"

Movement outside his office caught Grissom's eye and he distractedly slid his gaze past the young CSI's face toward the corridor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sara as she walked past. Where was she? None of his usually reliable sensors – his infallible sixth sense – informed him of Sara's presence in the building and she should have been back by now. When he returned his gaze on Greg, the latter was silent, keen eyes watching Grissom intently as he waited for a reply.

Grissom took a deep breath. "You can have Saturday night off but I have plans for Sunday."

Completely deflated, Greg collapsed onto one of the chairs across from Grissom. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Could we maybe…you think you could possibly swap me?"

"What, are we back in grade school?"

"So, it's a no?"

"It's a no."

"No?" Greg's tone was part- incredulous, part-pleading.

Grissom shook his head, his gaze impregnable, and his decision inflexible.

"There's no room for negotiation?"

Grissom cocked a brow. "What do you have that I could possibly want or need?"

Greg lifted a hesitant shoulder. "Lots of stuff…gossip?" he hazarded. "Tickets to Marilyn Manson?"

Grissom's lips twitched into an almost imperceptible amused smile. "Listen, Greg, normally if I could, I'd try to help you out, you know that but I booked that particular night ages ago so," Grissom lifted a not-so-sorry shoulder and added, "sorry but no." He picked up his glasses from his desk slipped them on and flicked through the files.

Conversation over.

Greg got to his feet. "It was worth a shot." He headed out of the door and paused at the threshold. "You're taking her somewhere nice?"

Grissom froze in his movement and put down Hodges' file. His brow creased into a frown he peered up at Greg over the top of his glasses. "And may I ask who 'her' might be?" he asked, his tone professional and a little cold.

"This lady friend of yours," Greg replied unperturbed. He shrugged. "You don't book a night off – especially a Sunday night – if a girl's not involved."

Grissom pursed his lips and gladly conceded the point with a nod of his head. "Not that it's any of your business but Charlotte's racing that night and I can't miss it."

"Charlotte, huh? Never heard of her. Who's she?"

Grissom was struggling to hide his amusement. "Don't you have a case to work on?"

"What? Oh, sure." Greg smiled uneasily. "Yeah." Grissom's stare was hard and it startled Greg out of his thoughts. "Oh." The younger CSI shoved his hands in his pockets, swaying on his feet. "Okay, I'll have to think of something else for Sunday night then."

"You do that but you do it somewhere else. I have work to do."

Greg turned on his heels.

"Oh, and Greg?" Grissom called as the CSI got to the door.

"Yeah?" The hope that suddenly lit up Greg's eyes made Grissom laugh inwardly.

"Close the door on your way out, will you?"

Greg heaved a great sigh, nodding his head forlornly and pulled the door firmly shut after him. Grissom took off his glasses and chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. He suddenly stood up, scraping his chair back noisily and began pacing his office.

_Where is she?_ He wondered._ Her car's in the lot but she's nowhere to be found in the lab. She could be with Robbins. _He shook his head in disbelief. _Of course, she's not with Robbins; she's working an arson case with no fatalities. _He sighed and paced the other way._ That's not like her. Maybe Greg was wrong and she's not back yet._ He picked up Miss Piggy and directed his next words to the pickled pig._ There's only one way to find out._

He yanked his office door open and strode through the maze of corridors, ignoring people's glances, to the main entrance. He stood on the steps outside the main door and scanned his gaze over the dimly-lit parking lot.

No signs of Sara's car.

He let out a small snort, suddenly glad that he'd refused Greg his request. "That'll teach him to get my hopes up," Grissom muttered to himself. _Or maybe she's parked round the back._

He was about to head back inside when he spotted a lone Denali at the far end of the lot. Frowning he skipped down the steps and trotted toward the car, wondering why Sara would have parked so far away when there was ample space nearer the entrance. He reached for his trusted pocket flashlight and shone it through the driver's window.

His heart missed a beat, his face softening as immense longing filled him whole.

He quickly checked over his shoulder, making sure that no one was around and allowed himself the small pleasure of watching her while she slept, the loving smile never leaving his face.

Oh, if he was caught like this – peeping. Unconsciously, his smile grew bigger.

But Sara was a vision to behold and he was mesmerised. She looked uncomfortable, long limbs curled over themselves but peaceful, a small smile gracing her parted lips. Her hair fanned her face beautifully. Her CSI vest was askew, showing a little pale flesh that he longed to touch, to kiss, to… he shook the fanciful idea off feeling a pang of sadness twisting his chest.

_If only._

He glanced over his shoulder again. Should he let her sleep? She obviously needed it. It wasn't like Sara to skive off work. Quite the contrary. He tried to think back to the beginning of shift. She had looked more tired than usual, stifling yawns as he had handed out assignments. He had noticed her lacklustre gaze as if she had pulled a double although that wasn't the case. He should know. He flashed his light away from Sara and noticed that she'd left the radio on and a Starbuck's Styrofoam cup in the car drinks' holder. Now that he thought about it, hadn't she been nursing a cup of coffee then too?

Had she been burning the midday oil? Could her heart already be taken?

He brought a hesitant hand up and rasped his knuckles on the window. Nothing. He tried again but she was gone, sleeping with the angels or the fairies, whichever it was. He tried gently tapping the end of his light to the glass. She stirred a little, causing Grissom's inside to flutter and his heart to misfire. She resettled herself, turning away with a sigh but didn't rouse. His hand moved to the car handle and then back up to his side, his fingers flexing uncertainly. He reached into his pocket for his cell and pressed redial. Immediately Sara's phone lit up and he saw it dance along the middle console as it vibrated.

Maybe he should just let her sleep. Make up some excuse to cover for her. He was good at that; making excuses.

He flipped his phone shut and turned his back on the car, headed back indoors. People would be looking for him now; wondering where he had disappeared to. It wouldn't be right to wake her up anyway. She'd feel self-conscious, put on the spot - uncomfortable. And they'd passed that stage.

_No, _he told himself decisively,_ it wouldn't be right to wake her. It wouldn't be right but it would _feel_ right. So right._

Oh, to wake up next to her, watch her as she slept, to feel her warm body next to his and rouse her from sleep.

He stopped walking and headed back to the car. He couldn't leave her like that. For one thing, it was a chilly night and she'd catch her death. People didn't call him stealth-like for nothing; she would never know. He would just make sure she was comfortable - comfortable and warm. He slipped his jacket off and pulled the car handle, easing the door open as quietly as he could.

* * *

A/N: Fluff isn't my forte, as you well know, and the _will they/won't they _has been done before to death but I'm in the mood. I miss writing happy Grissom, and Sara too and I need forgiving. If you like what you read and want more, let me know. I have a rough outline for an idea. It's completely daft and **HAPPY** GSR all the way. I know, I know…


	2. Chapter 2

Sara felt the lightest of touches on her skin. It was as though a soft breeze was stroking her bare arm, past the curve of her breast, all the way to her shoulders. It lingered there in the crook of her neck before lightly brushing over her mouth, her eyes, her face, gently awakening the whole of her body.

The soft breeze made way to warm breath that tickled every nerve ending in her body, sending delectable shivers down her spine, and slowly rekindled a long-extinguished fire in the pit of her stomach. Goose bumps prickling her skin she shifted position and sank deeper into the car seat, her chest heaving in a shudder as a soft sigh escaped from her parted lips.

She wanted more.

Her body tensed up instinctively, seeking, aching, and yearning for that oh-so-familiar touch she could only dream about. She writhed on the seat, squirming and moaning quietly, her legs grinding together as she slept.

At that moment, she felt the soft pressure of gentle lips against her temple, hot breath blowing raggedly on her cold skin, and she relaxed, giving in to the sensations. She leaned into that mouth, turning her head toward it, her lips parting further intuitively, welcoming, demanding, and needing.

In her dream, she was kissed awake.

In reality, she froze and frowned, consciousness suddenly seeping through into the dream as she remembered where she was. Fear gripped her as a sketchy outline of a silver Denali parked in the darkest spot of the CSI car lot appeared in front of her eyes. Had she even remembered to lock the doors?

Sara woke with a start and jumped up into a sitting position, her hand immediately reaching for her service weapon. With no hesitation, she pulled the gun out of its hip holster and whipped it round toward the open car door. "LVPD!" she shouted with confidence. "Don't you dare come any closer!"

"Jesus, Sara," Grissom gasped, his hands flying up in the air. "It's me Grissom!" He redirected the beam of his flashlight onto his face, lighting up a crooked and slightly guilty smile.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Sara blinked uncertainly and wiped the sleep from her eyes before lowering her weapon. She let out a heavy breath. "Shit, Grissom, I could have killed you." Mortified, she quickly put her weapon away. "You really scared the crap out of me!"

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to. But you should really have locked the door; there're all sorts of weirdoes walking about the place."

Sara's brow lifted in amusement. "We're at work, Grissom."

"My point exactly," he said, grinning.

Sara felt embarrassed under his scrutiny, almost like she had been caught lacking. "I have a gun," she added in a low voice, patting her hip for good measure. "I can take care of myself."

"I have no doubt."

Sara looked around her uncertainly, scrunching her eyes shut at the thought that Grissom, her boss, had found her sleeping while on duty. She pushed aside the jacket he had more or less thrown over her, inclined the seat in its original upright position and squinted at her wrist checking the time.

"It's a little after a quarter to four," Grissom supplied in a soft chuckle.

"Shit!" she muttered under her breath, turning away quickly, conscious that she would be a sight for sore eyes. She raked a shaky hand through her tousled hair, smoothing it down nervously into a semblance of a style and straightened her vest. _Five short minutes, my ass,_ she chastised herself angrily, quickly checking the corners of her mouth for drool. _How could you have been so stupid? _

Her inner struggle firmly hidden behind an impeccable mask, she turned around and beamed her brightest smile at her boss. _Damage limitation, Sara, that's what you're going to do._ She would use her charm to keep her job. Losing her roof – albeit temporarily was bad enough. Losing her job? Unthinkable.

"Grissom…I'm sorry," she said, her tone as professional and detached as she could make it in the circumstance. "I'm so sorry. It's never happened before…me falling asleep like that on the job…I don't know what happened. I closed my eyes for a minute and…" _Stop babbling Sidle! Come on, damage limitation, remember. _"You were looking for me?"

Grissom's lips curled into a strange half-smile. "No. Yes. Well, don't worry about it. I've been working you hard recently and..." Wincing at his poor choice of words he shook his head absently, letting his words trail with a shrug.

Sara smiled dreamily at his awkwardness and then her eyes widened in fear. "Oh my God," she gasped, craning her neck around Grissom's body looking around the car lot. "Did someone see me? Did they complain? Report me? Did they call you out?"

"Nooo. No. No. No one knows we're here alone in the car lot." He closed his eyes with a weary sigh. "No…I…_I_ was looking for you," he finally said, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. He attempted a smile that didn't quite work and then took a short breath, his customary mask back on. "It's about your case. I thought I could help you with it?"

Sara's wistful smile died a slow agonising death. "The case?" she stammered.

"The arson case? The one I assigned you to this evening?"

"Oh!" There was a pause, just long enough for her bubble to burst. "Sure." Sara grabbed her cell and her empty cup of coffee, turned the radio off and scrambled out of the car, her makeshift blanket dropping to the ground in her haste. Frowning, she put her cell in her pocket, bent down to pick his jacket up and realising what it was looked up toward her boss with a million questions in her eyes.

"You looked cold," he explained simply. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Sara opened her mouth to reply but at a loss for the right thing to say, averted her gaze to the suede jacket, liking the feel of the soft material on her skin. "Thanks," she said as she grudgingly handed the jacket back to him. "It won't happen again."

Grissom took the jacket with a nod and slipped it back on, casting a quick glance over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she apologised again, misinterpreting his look. "I'm keeping you from your work. Go ahead back in; I won't be five minutes." She hastily removed the keys from the ignition and brushed past Grissom as she rushed to the trunk.

"I'm okay; it's a slow night."

Sara repressed a cold shiver and began pulling out evidence bags from the trunk. "I'll log in this evidence now and make a start on it before the end of shift."

Grissom shrugged his jacket off before slipping it on Sara's shoulders. "I'll give you a hand with these, if you want," he said. "It'll save you a return trip."

Sara looked surprised both by his gesture and his offer. "Sure." She flashed him a quick smile. "I'll make up the hour I missed, Griss. I'll stay on after shift."

"Don't worry about it. It's not like you don't put in a lot of overtime anyway."

Sara nodded and passed him an armful of evidence bags, then picked up some more and balanced her kit on her leg so she could shut the trunk. She beeped the Denali locked and shoved the keys in her back pocket. They began walking in silence and had almost reached the main entrance when Grissom asked in a whisper, "Are you all right?"

Sara was taken aback by the question and by the caring tone Grissom had used. "Sure. Why shouldn't I be?"

A slow smile crept on Grissom's lips. "You fell asleep in the middle of shift, Sara," he said. "You got a reputation to keep and that's not the way to do it."

Sara laughed. "You're not mad?"

He shook his head. "I'm just glad you didn't fall asleep at the wheel," he added quietly.

His obvious concern – could it be affection? she wondered – caught her off-guard and she sighed. "I know. It's just that…" How could she tell him that for the last three days she'd hardly had any decent sleep? That she was homeless? Well, not quite but almost.

Grissom held the door open for her and they went in. "Why don't you take tonight off?" he said. "I'll square it with Warrick."

"I couldn't do that to him. He's taking Tina to some fancy doodad on Lake Mead."

"Ah, yeah, I'd forgotten. He's taking her on the Desert Princess; it's supposed to be a surprise. It's a dinner/dance cruise on an authentic, three-level, Mississippi-style paddle wheeler. Been on it once before; it's very good."

Sara's expression turned sad as she wondered who had had the pleasure of his company. "Oh."

"You're rostered off Tuesday, aren't you?" he continued, oblivious to his faux-pas. She nodded distractedly. "I could always swap you Sunday night instead if you wanted."

Sara stopped in her tracks. "You would?"

"Pardon me?" he said turning round.

"You'd do that for me? Swap your night off because I'm tired?"

"Sure." His smile was tentative. "I wasn't doing anything special," he added. "Nothing that can't be rescheduled anyway."

Sara dropped her gaze bashfully to the ground and thought about his words. Maybe he did care after all. She wanted to smile but wasn't quite sure it was appropriate. Besides, if she was honest this kind, thoughtful and sensitive Grissom unnerved her a little. Their friendship had evolved over the years and they'd reached a new understanding in the past few months but nothing more and Sara liked it this way.

"I'm fine, really," she said at last as she resumed walking. "But thank you. It's just that the apartment directly above mine had a flood – in the bathroom," she explained. "And the damaged spread to the bedroom. So they're drying my place out. They got dehumidifiers and all sorts going so I had to move out but I should be back in tomorrow evening at the latest."

"Surely they're putting you up in a hotel until your place is fixed, aren't they?"

Sara shrugged. "They put me up in this crappy motel on Blue Diamond Road? I'll pass up the details but I couldn't stay." She repressed a shiver. "And everywhere else is fully booked."

"So, where have you been staying? Don't tell me you're living in your _car_?" he said incredulously and a little reproachfully.

Sara didn't miss the undertone of Grissom's comment and silently walked into evidence lock-up.

"There are hundreds of hotels in Vegas, Sara," he was now saying. "I'm sure one has a spare room."

"Not in my price range," she replied. Or clean enough, she almost added. "Believe me, if I could have, I'd have found a better way. I was going to ask Greg if I could crash on his couch but I'd be cramping his style. He's got a new girlfriend," she added in a whisper.

Smiling, Grissom dropped the bags he was carrying on the counter. "That'd certainly explain his desperate eagerness earlier tonight."

Sara watched him with a frown, waiting for him to elucidate but he didn't.

He looked around the room self-consciously before saying quietly, "Listen, if it's only for two more days, you could always _crash_ at my place."

Sara's mouth fell open and one of the bags she was carrying dropped to the ground. She put down her kit and quickly bent down to pick up the bad and hide her shock. "No. I couldn't do that," she replied, not meeting his gaze.

"Why not? It'd be no trouble."

Sara straightened up. "For one, you don't have a guest bedroom."

He shrugged. "I have a couch."

Sara hesitated, then shook her head. "I'd be putting you out. I'll give the hotels a try again; see if they got a last minute cancellation."

"Well, if you're sure," he said. "But the offer stands…if you change your mind." Sara looked up, meeting his gaze. His cell beeped and he fished it out of his pocket. "Home invasion in Spring Valley," he said with a small wave of the cell.

Sara nodded. "I'll be fine doing this on my own."

He nodded and headed out the door, then stopped and turned around hesitantly at the threshold. "You know Sara, you could have just asked me." He smiled a little wistfully and turned on his heels, leaving Sara to stare at his back in bewilderment.

In one unguarded moment, he had almost looked a little sad.


	3. Chapter 3

"Griss?"

Grissom shook his head out of the clouds and turned a dreamy look toward Nick. "Huh?"

"Don't you think you've got enough powder there?"

Grissom startled, lifting the fibreglass brush he was still stroking over the fingerprint and looked at the broken windowpane. "Damn. Good job the burglar was sloppy."

"Good job, indeed," Nick replied with a quiet chuckle.

Grissom pursed his face at the print wondering whether there was a way he could still rescue it. He shook his head with a sigh and straightened up. "Nick, I got to head back. Are you all right finishing up here?"

If Nick was surprised he didn't show it, just checking his watch before giving his boss a nod of the head. "I'm cool. Shouldn't take longer than an hour or so anyway."

"That's what I thought." Grissom tidied his brush and powders away and closed his field case. "Thank you, Nick, I appreciate it."

"Where's the fire? There's still an hour before the end of shift."

"I know; I got calls to make." He flashed Nick a grateful smile and with no more time to waste, turned to leave. He had a menu to prepare, shopping to do, a house to tidy…the tidying might have to wait though, if he didn't want to miss Sara before she clocked off and parked her car on some godforsaken car lot somewhere. _Slow down, buddy. She hasn't said yes,_ his inner voice said._ She didn't say no either, _he replied cheerfully.

"Good thing we got here in separate cars then."

Nick's little quip and particularly its mocking undertone jarred Grissom out of his thoughts. He pulled a face, stopping dead in his tracks and turned. "Good thing, indeed."

And now, he was standing in line at the 24/7 check-out. He checked the content of his basket one more time; eggs, cheese, milk, mushroom, pre-packed mixed salad and at the last minute he'd added a punnet of fresh _strawberries_ – and then put it back on the display and then picked it up again – as well as some fresh cream he could just whip up as and when required. _If required,_ his inner voice whispered.

"I know, I know," he whispered back, "I'm being a little presumptuous. What harm is there in that?"

He moved forward one place, sighed and glanced at his watch. 7.30. No need to panic. Sara would still be sifting through her evidence; he had no doubt about it. Normally, he didn't like to hand off a case as he had just done but this was an emergency. His fridge was bare. He'd need to feed Sara something, wouldn't he? She'd probably been surviving on hotel and take-out food for the last few days. She needed looking after. And he was just the man to do that. _If she lets you, of course,_ his inner voice murmured.

"I gave you a ten dollar bill," drifted up to him. "You gave me change for five."

He sighed, once more checking his watch, 7.34, and watched the heated exchange between the old lady in front of him and the nerdy youth manning the counter.

"I don't think so," the youth was now replying, glowering impatiently at the woman.

Grissom stepped forward, cleared his throat noisily and plonked his basket on the counter. The argument stopped as both pair of eyes turned toward him and then toward the badge on his CSI windbreaker. "She's right," he said sharply, nodding toward the old lady and giving the youth no opportunity to retort. "I saw her give you a ten dollar bill. Now, give her her change; I got places to be."

_

* * *

_

If it's love, if it really is, it's there in his kiss… How 'bout the way acts…Oh no, that's not the way…and you're not listening to all I say…If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss...

Grissom joyfully drummed his fingers on the desk in tune with the melody in his head and smiled broadly when Judy turned toward him. "Judy, have you seen Sara?"

Judy's smile was knowing. "She's in the break-room with the others."

"Thanks," he said pushing himself off the counter enthusiastically.

"Dr Grissom," Judy called. She bent down and retrieved a small packet from under her counter, which she handed to the CSI. "I almost forgot, this came for you."

Grissom took the packet, distractedly nodding his thanks to Judy and turned to leave.

"Have a good day, Sir," she called cheerily back to him.

Grissom turned around and almost skipping backwards, threw her a cheeky wink. "Oh, I will," he grinned. "Don't you worry about that!"

He quickly turned on his heels, headed to the break-room. He was rounding the corner when he saw Greg coming from the other direction, headed too for the break-room. He slowed down, looking down toward his parcel keen to avoid a repeat conversation of the one they'd had before.

But Greg didn't see him. The young CSI bounded into the break-room without a second glance toward his boss. Grissom let out a long breath and stopped walking altogether, suddenly wondering if maybe it would be wiser to try and catch Sara when she was on her own. She might be more inclined to accept his offer then. He was turning back when his eyes widened in fright at what he heard.

"Have you heard the latest?" Greg had said in his customary loud voice.

"Are we supposed to come back with a witty reply?" he heard Catherine ask.

"Griss's got a girlfriend."

Grissom closed his eyes wearily. He was about to go in and break up the party when his face lit up with badly concealed excitement as a naughty idea popped into his head. Stealth-like, he edged closer to the break-room, quite happy to eavesdrop in on the rest of the conversation. If things went too far, he could always make an appearance. From his vantage point, he could see in but not Sara. Maybe Judy had got it wrong.

"What?" Catherine squawked with disbelief, causing Grissom to smile.

Greg nodded emphatically, his eyes wide with uncontained glee. "How's that for juicy gossip?"

"The best kind," Catherine replied.

"And you know this how?" Warrick asked in a serious tone.

_Good old Warrick,_ Grissom thought to himself.

"He told me." Greg couldn't have looked any smugger if he'd tried.

Warrick laughed his easy chuckle. "He _told_ you?"

"Grissom and I are like this," Greg replied, crossing his index and middle fingers.

Warrick shook his head in disbelief.

"What's her name then?" Catherine asked. "Come on, spill!"

"Charlotte. She's a racer. Who would have thought, hey? That the old man had it in him."

Grissom's brow rose in bewilderment. _How old does he think I am? _

"He's not _that_ old," both Warrick and Sara exclaimed at the same time.

Grissom let out a long contented sigh, his heartbeat quickening at the sweet sound of Sara's retort. _She doesn't think I'm old!_

"A racer?" Catherine was now asking.

Greg nodded. "I wonder what kind of sport we're talking about here."

"Could be a horse," Sara remarked, "Doesn't have to be a woman."

Grissom stifled a chuckle. _That's my girl. _

"A horse? Nah. He wouldn't have gotten that twinkle in his eye for a horse," Greg said confidently. "Maybe she races cars or…motorbikes," he said, his eyes widening to the size of ping-pong balls. "You think he's a leather type of guy? That'd certainly explain the Lady Heather thing-"

He heard Sara's uncomfortable splutter turn into a cough and then her unconvincing, "I'm okay. Coffee went down the wrong hole."

"Greg, please," Warrick was now saying in mock-disgust, "you're putting me off my muffin, man."

"And what would you know about that?" Catherine asked. "You've never met the woman."

Greg shrugged. "I keep my ear to the ground."

"Is that what you call it?" asked Sara, suddenly appearing in Grissom's eye line. She was hugging her cup of coffee to her lips, taking small tentative sips. _Oh, to be that cup of coffee!_ he swooned.

"And what does your ear tell you now?" Warrick asked with a disbelieving shake of the head.

"That below the thick glacier lays a volcano waiting to burst through."

Both Warrick and Catherine snorted with laughter. "Is that a bad translation of a Papa Olaf saying?" Catherine asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Greg pulled a face at her in reply.

"Well," Sara said, "I think you may want to stay well clear when he finally erupts." She threw Greg a cheeky wink and Grissom's heart melted. "Anybody for breakfast at Frank's?" she then asked casually.

Warrick stood up in a long, languid stretch and scraped his chair back noisily. "Sorry, Sar. Not today. Got to get ready for-"

"The Desert Princess," Greg said in an over-dramatic whisper.

Catherine was nodding her approval. "Nice…expensive…romantic."

Warrick's gaze lingered on Catherine and he shrugged a little self-consciously, saying a small voice. "I like her."

Grissom couldn't take his eyes off Sara. The radiant way she looked, so happy and relaxed, carefree and unguarded even as she smiled fondly at Warrick, was entrancing.

"You're coming, Greg?" she then asked.

"Sorry. I need my beauty sleep before my big date with Carly."

"Oh, it's Carly now, is it?" Warrick teased.

"Australian," Sara supplied. "Tall, blonde and athletic."

"Aren't they all!" Catherine lamented.

"These Aussie girls," Warrick piped in, "they're all into surfing."

"I like surfing," Sara mused. "Well, I used to, anyway."

Greg eyed Sara with newly found respect. Grissom did too. "Is that where the tatoo's from?" Greg asked. "Your surfing days?"

"What tattoo?" Warrick asked, echoing Grissom's thoughts entirely.

Grissom brushed his gaze the length of Sara's body, slowly peeling away with his eyes every single layer of clothing that bound her long limbs until he unveiled her mysterious tattoo. Just above her butt cheek.

"On her ankle," Greg replied, cutting into Grissom's fantasy.

Movement outside the plate glass must have caught Sara's eye because she suddenly turned her head, looking straight toward him. Her bright smile turned a little shy, embarrassed even as she held his gaze. "Greg and I shared a decontamination shower a few weeks ago," she explained, her eyes steadfast on his. Oh, she was mesmerising. "It's no big deal." She flicked her gaze to Greg, narrowing it in mock-irritation. "Besides, he swore he kept his eyes shut."

"Averted, not shut," the latter replied.

"Sorry, Sara, I'm out too," Catherine was now saying. "I promised Lindsey I'd take her shopping."

"It's okay."

"Why don't you ask Grissom?" Catherine suggested.

_Oh, and that's my cue. _His plans of breakfast with Sara over strawberries and cream merely put on hold, he sauntered breezily into the breakroom. "Ask me what?" he said, casually dropping his packet on the table.

"Breakfast," Catherine said, "At Frank's."

"Count me in," he replied jovially, making a bee-line for the fridge. He took out a small bottle of water, twisted the cap off and drank a long, slow swig. He could feel Sara's eyes on his face but he couldn't even begin to imagine what was going through her head at that moment. The devastating effect his movements had on her whole being. How her heart quickened, her mouth suddenly as dry as the Nevada desert as she watched with rapt fascination the sensual way his Adam's apple bobbled up and down every time he swallowed a little more water. He turned his eyes, just in time to see Sara avert hers to the ground shamefully.

"Well, boss, it's just you and Sara," Greg said before bidding everyone a good night and bounding out of the break-room.

"See you tonight," Catherine said as, taking their cue, she and Warrick followed Greg out.

"Have a good night, Warrick," Sara said.

"I will, don't you worry!" came Warrick's distant reply.

Sara laughed. She quickly finished her coffee and without meeting Grissom's gaze, moved to the sink to rinse off her cup. "Listen," she said, glancing over her shoulder, "we don't have to do breakfast if you don't want to."

He shrugged easily enough but his inward sigh was long and sad. _Play it cool, Gilly. Don't show your hand. There'll be other times._ "It's cool," he drawled, sounding just like Nick. He shook his head with a sigh. "You…you managed to find yourself a room?"

Her back to him, Sara shook her head in reply. "I haven't had time to ring around yet."

"Don't, please." He paused, hesitating and Sara turned round, looking at him quizzically. "I need you to be fresh tonight. So, for the good of the lab…" he waved the rest of his sentence off with a cheeky smile.

Sara nodded her head in understanding of the 'for the good of the lab' reference. "Okay," she conceded, grinning, "but just for the good of the lab. And just for today."

"And tomorrow."

Sara's grin was wide and beautiful and enchanting and...he took a deep, shuddering breath overwhelmed by the sudden surge of love and longing that coursed through his body. He _had_ to do something about this and now was his chance.

"You may want to see how today goes first," she then said, jarring him out of his reverie. "I'm rather set in my ways."

Their eyes met and locked, burning with intensity. "So am I."

* * *

A/N: The Shoop, Shoop Song isn't mine but you knew that already. Leave a review please and have a great weekend!


	4. Chapter 4

Sara pulled up on the drive next to Grissom's Mercedes, and returned his friendly smile with a similar one of her own. She took a breath, got out of the car and hauled her knapsack out of the back seat. She was beeping her car locked when he remarked rather seriously, "You're wearing my jacket."

_Shit! I meant to take it off._ Sara slung her bag over her shoulder as casually as she could and paused, looking down at herself. _Maybe it'll help him take the hint. _She turned round, beaming up at him. "Do you mind?"

Smiling and staring at her a little wistfully, Grissom slowly shook his head in reply. "It suits you."

The breath caught in Sara's throat. Three little words, that's all it took to blow her away.

Grissom shook himself back to the present and reached down into the trunk of his car.

"Shall I give you a hand with these?" Sara asked, putting her hand on his shoulder as he pulled out the first of his grocery bags. She felt his slight startle at the contact, causing her to remove her hand self-consciously. _Or maybe I'm reading the signals wrong,_ she thought with a sigh.

"Sure. Could…could you get the other one, please?"

"Sure." She picked up the bag, glimpsing at the content and turned her astonished face toward him. "You went shopping?"

He smiled, shrugging and shutting the trunk of the car with care. "It's nothing. I…I stopped on the way. Just for a few essentials," he added as he led the way to the front door.

Sara's mouth twisted into a playful smile. "You call _strawberries_ essential?"

Caught, Grissom lifted his shoulder in a small shrug. "They were on special," he defended weakly, sliding the key into the lock.

_Oh, Grissom, please, it's me Sara. You don't have to pretend. _Sara put her hand on his arm, holding him back before he could go in. This time he didn't jump, he just turned, enquiring. "Thank you," she said softly, holding his gaze. "I appreciate this."

He just nodded, staring at her just a little too long and Sara felt herself blush. "It's no trouble," he murmured. He smiled again, a small, shy half-smile that made Sara weak at the knees and pushed the door open. "I'm sorry," he said as he tapped in the code to disable the alarm. "The place is a little untidy…I thought I'd have time to come and give it a once over, you know. Tidy yesterday's mess but-"

"Grissom, please, this is perfect."

Grissom nodded and took the grocery bag out of her hand, headed down the stairs to the kitchen. Sara's mouth was dry, her heart drumming in her ears. She had never felt so nervous. Stepping inside his domain like this while he seemed so personable and friendly, so relaxed and composed unnerved her even more. She had been to his house before of course, but as part as the team, never on her own like this. With him. Alone. Under the same roof. Sharing personal space. She sighed. _I hope I haven't made a mistake._

"Sara, please," she heard him call from the kitchen. He sounded upbeat. "Don't stand at the door. Make yourself at home."

Sara ventured in, shutting the door after her. She headed to the living area and tossed her knapsack on the couch. _My bed for the night,_ she thought with a smile. She brushed her hand along the soft leather of the couch and took off her jacket – _his_ jacket – smoothing it neatly over the back of it. She smiled, noticing the chess board on the low table nearby and the game abandoned mid-play. Sara crouched down in front of it and studied the pieces with attention. Instinctively, she picked up the ivory queen and took a black knight with it.

"Listen Sara," Grissom called from the kitchen, startling her. "I'm going to make us some breakfast. Why don't you go freshen up?"

Sara straightened up and leaned over the railing separating the lounge from the kitchen below. Her lips curled upward in an amused smile. Grissom had his head low inside the fridge and all she could see of him was his pert butt sticking out. "I'm okay," she replied. "I grabbed a shower at the lab." She joined him at the kitchen. "I'd rather help make breakfast actually if you don't mind." She looked at the ingredients spilling out of the bags on to the counter. "What are you making?"

Grissom turned and raised an enigmatic brow. "Omelette au fromage et aux champignons, accompagnée de fraises à la crème Chantilly." He smiled knowingly and placed the strawberries and mushroom by the sink to wash and prepare. "Knives are in the drawer over there," he added pointing before turning away.

Sara didn't know what to make of this relaxed Grissom. He was being friendly and acted like what they were doing was nothing special. Just sharing a meal between friends. She smiled to herself. _Maybe he doesn't think this is anything special. Unlike you._ _Maybe this is just him being a good host. _

Without ceremony, Sara moved to the sink and got started. "I didn't know you spoke French," she remarked casually after a moment, glancing over her shoulder.

Grissom pulled a face, shrugging. "I don't. Rudimentary schoolboy French only, I'm afraid."

Sara smiled. "I'm duly impressed," she enthused, making him laugh. She began washing the strawberries and cutting the tails off. "I'd love to go to Paris some day," she said thoughtfully. "They have this amazing underground cave system they ended up using to store bones from a nearby cemetery that I'm dying to visit."

"The Catacombs," Grissom replied. "Quite extraordinary, isn't it?"

Sara chanced a longer look over her shoulder but didn't reply. He was at the kitchen island, busy breaking and beating the eggs for the omelette. At some point, he had taken his shoes and windbreaker off and stood barefoot fully engrossed in his task. He looked happy, relaxed and unguarded, youthful even and Sara felt butterflies flutter in her stomach. She felt as comfortable in his house as they prepared breakfast together as she did, working a crime scene alongside him. There was none of the awkwardness she had feared; none of the discomfort. In his quiet, unassuming way he was making her feel welcome. Feel at home. The silences between them were familiar and comfortable, words unnecessary.

She watched in rapt fascination as he opened the carton of fresh cream, poured it into a bowl and adeptly began to beat it up with a whisk. He must have sensed her eyes on him because he looked round toward her and smiled, his eyes shining with undisguised happiness. Sara smiled back, conscious she'd been caught gawking but he didn't seem to mind.

They finished preparing the food in silence. Sara looked through his cupboards and set the table while Grissom cooked and served the omelette, and carried the two steaming plates to the table with a proud smile. "Voilà!" he said with fanfare.

Sara sat down, duly impressed. "And he can cook too!"

"Well, you don't get to my age without picking one or two things up along the way," he said, opening the fridge door. "Beer?" he asked, not giving Sara time to retort. "Or I have juice."

_Ah, he's hung up about his age_, she thought with a pang of sadness. "Water, if you don't mind."

Grissom took two glasses out of the cupboard and filled them up with cold water from the fridge. "Go on! Try it," he said, smiling and putting the two glasses down in front of them. "It's getting cold." He pulled a stool to sit on and began cutting up his omelette with his fork and eating hungrily. He winked, "It's good, I promise."

Clearly ravenous, Sara ate quickly. After the omelette they moved on to the strawberries and whipped cream and she finished her bowl first. Grissom's brow rose in amusement. "How long is it since you last had a proper meal?" he asked with a chuckle.

_Ah, there we go._ Sara lifted a small shoulder and pinched a strawberry from his bowl. "The day before yesterday," she replied, chewing and shrugging in apology. "I know, I know. Please don't say it."

Surprisingly, Grissom didn't say anything. He leaned across and lifted his hand to her face, brushing his thumb, oh, ever so gently, over the corner of her mouth. "Cream," he murmured with a small shrug to her enquiring eyes.

Sara's heart filled with such overwhelming emotion that tears immediately burned the back of her eyes. She looked away, blinking her tears dry before finally bringing her gaze back to his. Their eyes met, kissing and he smiled tenderly. His hand still lingered near her cheek and she felt herself leaning toward it by instinct.

Grissom seemed to catch himself, and pulled his hand away. "I'm sorry," he said, getting up and clearing their bowls away. "I shouldn't have done that."

Disappointed, Sara got up, clearing up the rest of the table. "Grissom," she said, "it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

She saw his small nod but he was loading the dishwasher and he didn't look at her. She sighed. "Thank you for breakfast," she said, adopting a more detached tone. "I'll go and get ready for bed."

"There are some clean towels in the bathroom closet," he said, glancing up. He paused, hesitating. "What don't you…hum…" he shook his head uncertainly and waved toward her clothes. "I'm going to put a wash on…why don't you leave your clothes in the laundry room? I'll just add them to mine."

Sara registered a look of surprise and looked down at the crumpled work clothes she had worn for the last two days. "I…sure…thank you," she added uncertainly. Where had that come from?

It barely took her five minutes to clean her face, brush her teeth and change into her night clothes but in that time Grissom had tidied the kitchen, set the dishwasher and disappeared. Unsure of what to do next and feeling exposed, she headed back to the couch and waited. She glanced toward the chess board, smiling when she noticed that at some point Grissom had played the next move. He had taken one of her pawns with his bishop. She was pondering her next move when she heard his footsteps coming up on the hardwood steps. She looked up in time to see him staring, speechless and motionless on the top step, laden with a duvet, a pillow and a pair of his pyjama bottoms.

"I've changed the sheets in the bed," he said, a little breathlessly. "It's all ready for you."

_Your bed?_ Sara sprung to her feet, forgetting she was in her customary tank top and shorts. "No, no. I can't do that."

His breath caught but he quickly recovered and peeled his eyes away from her body. "Sara, you're…taking the bed and that's that."

_Oh, god, I can't sleep in your bed._ "No," she replied, keeping a semblance of composure despite her inner turmoil. "I can't let you sleep on the couch. It's your house. It wouldn't be right."

"Sara, please, this isn't up for discussion."

_Not when you're not in it. _"You're right, it's not," she replied with determination. "I'm sleeping on the couch and that's that."

"Sara, please."

_How do you suppose I'd even fall asleep, let alone sleep? _"Grissom, I can't sleep in your bed."

"Why not?"

_Oh, so many reasons. _ She lifted her shoulders with a sigh. "The couch is _fine_."

Grissom seemed to be relenting. "I'd let you have the spare room but it's crammed full of stuff-"

_The sheets would smell of you. _"No, Griss, honesty, I appreciate the roof over my head."

"And beside there isn't a bed," he sighed.

_The whole room would smell of you. I'd be up all night, just… God. _Sara smiled but stood her ground.

"You sure you don't want me to take the couch?" he asked again, passing her the bed stuff.

_Absolutely. _"Absolutely." She literally grabbed the duvet and pillow out of his hands.

He sighed again, begrudgingly accepting her decision. "Well, if you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Okay." He turned, headed back downstairs.

"Okay," Sara said watching him go.

Grissom was half-way down the stairs when he turned round abruptly. "Good night, Sara," he bid quietly.

"Good night, Grissom. And thank you. Again, for this."

"No problem." He smiled and paused, hesitating.

Sara held her breath, not moving an inch and watched as he almost skipped back up to her. Her heart was beating in her mouth in trepid anticipation. _Oh, my god, he's going to kiss me._

He smiled a little self-consciously and reached out a hand toward her face. Sara's eyes closed instinctively, expectant but the kiss never came. She reopened her eyes uncertainly, a flicker of disappointment shadowing their brightness when she realised he was simply grabbing his pyjama bottoms from the top of the pile of bed linen she still held in her hands. She flashed him a reflex smile, chastising herself for feeling disappointed despite knowing deep down that he wouldn't have kissed her. That he was never going to kiss her. _Get a life, Sidle._

"I'm going to need those," he told her quietly with a wave of the pants.

Sara nodded. His voice, so light, so warm and gentle made her quiver inside. He stood so close that she could hear each one of his intake of breath as if it were her own. _Oh, God, let him kiss me,_ she prayed despite her best intentions, once more closing her eyes. All the hairs at the back of her head stood on end and she took in a small shuddering breath as she tried to quell her desperate need for him to touch her. All she could do was squeeze in the pulsating aching in the pit of her belly and wait.

She could feel the heat of his gaze burning on her face, his hot breath on her skin. She could feel his hand lift to her face. _Kiss me_, she begged him wordlessly. _Kiss me before I self-combust._ She knew his hand was hovering near her cheek, trembling, almost stroking, almost touching, yet not quite making contact. She waited for his hand to cup her cheek and tilt her head toward his. Her soft, wet lips parted in anticipation. She waited for his lips to finally capture hers and never let them go. _Oh, God, Grissom; I can't take this anymore. Kiss me. Kiss me NOW._

He didn't.

"Good night, Sara," he choked, his voice a barely audible whisper.


	5. Chapter 5

Unable to keep his passion under control any longer, Grissom almost leaped forward, capturing Sara's lips with searing intensity. God, he'd never wanted another woman as much as he wanted her. She was all he ever dreamed of, and more. His whole body throbbed for her, ached for her so badly that when he felt her low moan of pleasure in his mouth, he thought he was going to explode there and then.

Never breaking the kiss, he took her load from her, unceremoniously dropping it to the ground and took her face in his hands, urgently deepening the kiss. His movement dictated by a frenetic, primitive need, he pulled her roughly toward him, grinding his hips against hers in impatience.

Sara's lips parted welcomingly, her breath tasting of mint and of home. She raked her hands through his hair, pulling his head closer still, plunging her tongue into his mouth. They couldn't get enough of each other. His hands roamed all over her face, the back of her head, through her hair as they kissed and became one for the very first time.

In urgent need of air, he pulled back from her, his lips curling into a tender smile, amazed that he had finally gotten the nerve to do something about _this_. His chest heaving, he stared into the depth of her eyes, getting lost in their intensity. _Take it slow,_ he reminded himself. _Make your first time together special._ God, he could see the yearning in those bright orbs, yearning he mirrored ten-folds. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

His well-meaning intentions flew right out of his head as he once more pounced, devouring her lips with fervour. His hands moved from her face down her shoulders to the small of her back. He slipped his hands underneath her tank top, stroking them upward to her pert breasts, cupping them impatiently and teasing his thumbs over her hardened nipples.

The sound of Sara's gasp, partly in surprise at his intrepidity and partly in pleasure fuelled his raging fire. He left her lips and hungrily trailed his tongue down the long expanse of her neck to her bare shoulder, all the while pulling the strap of her tank top down her arm liberating her right breast.

His breath caught in his throat at the enticing sight and he faltered in his ministration for a second. Panting, he glanced up toward Sara but her eyes were closed, her lips parted in careless abandon as she offered herself to him. He roughly palmed her breast and brought it up to his mouth, sucking, licking and moaning as he gorged himself with it. Sara let out a low groan of pleasure and arched her back granting him better, deeper access.

God, he was nearly home.

In his dreams, in his wildest fantasies, he always imagined making slow, tender love to Sara. He would take his time to discover her body, show her with his actions, his caresses how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. He would tease his tongue around every curve and dip on her body, every inch of flesh until she begged him to stop.

But here, now, his hunger, his aching desire for her was just too great. He had waited too long for this moment to wait any longer. He broke contact with her breast long enough to pull the corners of her tank top up and over her head.

"God, Sara, you drive me wild…" he groaned, frantically pulling at the belt of his pants. He undid the button and the zipper, freeing his throbbing erection in a long moan of relief.

Sara's hands were all over his shirt, the buttons putty to her nimble fingers, until it fell to the floor. Thoughts of his bed long forgotten, Grissom quickly removed his pants and boxers, shaking his legs out of them, standing bare, tall and exposed in front of her. There was no time for awkwardness. He slipped his hands under the waistband of her shorts, grabbing her by the waist, and lifted her up to him. He pressed a soft kiss over her lips and then another, teasing, waiting for Sara to seize the initiative.

And she did. Oh, God, she did.

She bit the corner of his lip as she took his mouth in a searing kiss. Grissom groaned in pain-filled ecstasy and moved his hands to Sara's ass, lifting her higher up onto him. Sara wrapped her long legs around his midriff, gasping at the feel of his erection as he held her close. The tip of his penis throbbing tantalisingly close to Sara's inner core, he lowered her onto him through her shorts, gasping as the warm wetness of her sex enveloped him.

Making one, Grissom carried Sara to the couch and lay down on it with her astride on top of him. He began grinding upward while Sara arched her back, twisting this way and then that way over him until he filled her completely.

"God, Sara, I've been waiting for this moment my whole life," he moaned, his hands almost mauling her ass.

_Don't forget to kiss her,_ his inner voice reminded him in a soft whisper in his ear. _She is waiting for you to kiss her._

Grissom stiffened, and not in a good way. It was as though the videotape recording of the last frenzied five minutes was being rewound in fast motion in front of his eyes – not that he would ever want to film his and Sara's…ahem… prowesses.

_Stop! Stop! Stop! This is all wrong! _he berated in his head angrily._ You're doing this all wrong. This is not how your first time with the love of your life's supposed to be! This is not what you have been dreaming of for all these years, what you have been fantasising about, what you've been perfecting. _

He banged his head against the wall tiles of his shower stall in frustration.

_This isn't about _you_! _he continued heatedly. _This isn't about a quick release. A mindless fuck on the couch! This is about Sara. Sara! You dimwit, not you! This is about making her feel special. It's about showing how much you care for her, how much she means to you. How much you love her. It's about building a future together. _

He bounced his head on the tiles, letting the freezing cold water pound his skin and douse his torrid erection. It was no use. Every single time, new images of Sara filled his mind, reigniting the fire; Sara with cream on her lips which he died to kiss off, or laughing delightedly as he spoke bad French to her; Sara lying next door, alone on his couch in her skimpy shorts and top, and most probably still waiting to be kissed.

Oh, how he longed to go back to her and replay the last minute. Erase with one kiss the overwhelming disappointment he had glimpsed in her eyes. He could still feel the heat of her gaze on his retreating back.

_She wanted you to kiss her, you dimwit, _his inner voice said. _A simple kiss. Why couldn't you just do it? You so wanted to. You were so close. Your hand, your lips mere inches from her face. _

Grissom slowly banged his head on the tiles again._ "I couldn't do it."_

_Go back to her!_

"_I can't."_

_You're a coward,_ his inner voice continued. _Why deny both of you something you so obviously and desperately want, need and crave?_

"_You know why,"_ he replied sadly. _"She's young, sexy, and beautiful and I'm…not. I'm her boss, her supervisor. She can do so much better."_

_She likes _you_, you idiot. _YOU._ She couldn't have made it plainer if she'd put an ad in Entomology Monthly. _

"_It wouldn't be right."_

_But it would _feel_ right,_ his inner voice argued. _So, so very right._

"_I might get hurt."_

_Coward._

His hand headed south, brushing along the taut shaft of his cock. He closed his eyes, swallowing the tight knot in his throat. He could always give in to the temptation. Masturbating while fantasizing about Sara wasn't new to him, far from it, but surely not while the vision behind his eyelids was under his roof, so close, asleep in the next room.

_She might hear you, _he thought with dread.

_She might join you,_ his inner voice countered.

He quickly wrenched his hand away and cranked up the cold water. He took the shower head off the hook and like a fireman extinguishing a rampant inferno he sprayed the freezing water directly onto his pulsating self.

It soon did the trick.

When he finally stepped out of the shower, he dried himself quickly, brushed his teeth and slipped on his pyjama bottoms. He was pulling the sheets back to get in bed when he heard a small low muttering sound coming from the lounge. Immediately, his ears pricked up and he glanced toward his slightly open bedroom door.

_She can't be comfortable on that couch,_ he thought to himself. _Remember the backache you had when you fell asleep on it during the Poker World Series? _

_You're right! You should have insisted more and as a gentleman taken the couch yourself._

_But I couldn't even look at her in the eyes. She was so…_he sighed and swallowed the tightness in his throat_…desirable in those shorts._

_Yeah, well. It wouldn't hurt you to take a peek,_ his inner voice argued. _Make sure she's settled for the night._ _Surely that's the right thing to do, as a host, isn't it?_

_You're right. It is. _

With no more time to lose, Grissom strode to the door and opened it wide. He managed to make it to the end of the corridor when he faltered. He slowly looked down at himself barefoot and bare-chested, and clad only in pyjama bottoms, his eyes widening in fright at the tell-tale gaping slit at the crotch of said PJ's.

Shaking his head sadly at his lack of self-control, he slowly retraced his steps back to the bedroom. _Tonight's another day, buddy,_ he told himself._ You can always start again then. _

Now acting on autopilot, he slipped between the clean sheets of his lonely bed, let out a long, despondent sigh and settled himself for the night. He plumped up his pillow with his fist, sinking his head into it and hugging it close to his face. He closed his eyes and stared at the picture of Sara lit up halo-like at the back of his eyelids.

_You can always kiss her good morning, _his inner voice suggested soothingly.

Grissom pursed his lips into a dreamy smile. _"You're right. I think I'll do that."_

He was asleep in minutes.

* * *

Next door, however, was a totally different story.

Or was it?

* * *

A/N: Whatever you want to call him and you certainly have some good names for him, he will hopefully, eventually get it just right - the way he has been perfecting for all those long lonely years on his own. Have a great weekend!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I bowed to pressure. You know who you are! ;-) Thank you for the wonderful reviews for the last chapter. As you know I'm not renowned for my _smut, _so they were very welcome. I hope you enjoy Sara's take on the situation; let me know.

* * *

Sara turned over for the millionth time. She had tried every conceivable position on this wretched couch, and they were all torture. If she sat up against the arm rest, she got a crick in her neck. If she lay flat, her long legs projected over the other end, which gave her cramps. If she curled up into a ball, her hipbone went numb and her folded legs throbbed with more cramps. Each time she moved, the duvet slithered off, exposing some part of her body to the cold leather of the couch. It was now nearly noon, sleep wouldn't come and she was seriously contemplating seeking refuge in her car.

But worst of all, he hadn't kissed her. Despite being given ample opportunity he hadn't done it. She'd made herself available, put herself out there, on a plate for him. And still, he hadn't kissed her. He'd come close but not close enough.

_Maybe you read the signs wrong,_ a little voice suggested. _It wouldn't be the first time. _Sara let out a very long and very sad breath as she pondered that thought.

She'd listened to the sound of his lengthy shower all the while harbouring secret fantasies of joining him. She'd heard the water stop and then gentle, muffled sounds as he got himself ready for bed. Idly, she'd wondered at his bed time routine, whether he slept in the nude, whether he shaved before or after sleep, that sort of things.

She turned the other way on the couch, huffing as she once more exposed her lower back to the cool midday air. December in Vegas wasn't all it was supposed to be.

_Why do you do this to yourself?_ her inner voice asked, almost angrily. _Why do you set yourself up for failure over and over again?_

_You know why, _Sara replied, her tone resigned._ I like him. _

_You should know better._

A sigh. _I do._

_You couldn't have made it plainer if you'd put an ad in The Forensic Journal and he still rejected you._

_I know._

_Then why?_

_Because he's the one for me,_ Sara replied sadly._ What else can I do but keep trying?_

_Sara, you got to face it, _her inner voice argued_, he doesn't like you that way._

_He does. I know he does. He's just…afraid._

_What about this Charlotte? I'd bet your ass he's already kissed her. Gone to second and third base too!_

_She's only…a figment of Greg's imagination,_ Sara countered weakly.

_The man's an idiot._

_Don't call him that. He's not. He's sensitive, intelligent and caring and-_

_There's nothing I can do for you, Sara, _Sara's inner voice cut in, shaking its head in desperation. _You're doomed._

Sara didn't move; she just wrapped herself tighter in the duvet pondering that thought for a very long time.

The rest of the house had been silent for a while now but her mind was buzzing so much that sleep simply wouldn't come. She sighed and pushed her covers off, getting up and padding barefoot to the kitchen. She poured herself a drink of water from the fridge, smiling when she caught sight of the rest of the whipped cream.

_He is trying,_ she thought as she took a sip.

Checking over her shoulder for prying eyes, she put her glass down, peeled the cellophane off the bowl and dipped her index finger into the cream. _It wouldn't be the first time you offset your sexual frustrations with food, _her inner voice whispered.

_Shut up!_ Sara barked, slowly sucking the cream off her finger. She closed her eyes as the smoothness and delicacy of the cream hit her palate, almost moaning aloud with pleasure.

She was returning to her torture bed when she heard it…the gentle rhythmic snoring that could only come from one man. One man fast asleep in his man-sized bed. She turned toward the sound, burning to go over and take a look; just to watch him unguarded and open as he slept. Vulnerable. Maybe sleep would come more easily then. She shook the idea out of her head with a wistful smile and padded back to the couch – HER couch for the night. Picking up the duvet, she slumped down on it.

Sara tossed and turned, and huffed and puffed some more and then at the end of her tether, sat up abruptly. She felt bone tired and if this went on, she'd be even more haggard and grey for tonight's shift. She caught sight of the white queen staring at her from the low table and leaned over pondering her next move. _If I want to win this game,_ she thought to herself, giving a jaw-splitting yawn,_ I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands. I'm going to have to take what's rightfully mine._ She smiled and moved her queen one square to the left, putting his king in check.

His quiet snores kept drifting up to her, teasing, enticing, distracting. His _for the good of the lab_ called her to his bedroom, to his bed, to him. She slowly turned her head toward the door leading to the corridor, her brow arching in challenge as an idea began to take hold.

_You can't make him kiss you,_ her inner voice pre-empted.

Sara smiled wickedly. _Can't I?_

Stealth-like and wrapped tight in the duvet, Sara followed the sound of his breathing all the way to his room. He'd left the door slightly ajar. Had that been a conscious choice? she wondered as she pushed it open, wincing at the slight ensuing creaking. She took a tentative step inside, pulling her make-shift barrier tighter around her body. What if he woke up? What if he found her in his room watching him? What would happen then?

She could see his head blissfully cradled in a downy mound of pillows, and the raised outline of his outstretched body as he slept. He was lying on his back, right in the middle of the bed and she glimpsed a hint of pyjama bottoms. Mesmerised, Sara took a few more steps. His bare chest rose and fell with every breath he took, soft silver hairs curling invitingly. Her fingers longed to run through them, feel his warm skin and his steady heartbeat. She followed with her eyes the greying arrow of hairs pointing downward, her heart pulsating deafeningly in her ears. She reached out a shaky hand to him, just wanting to touch him, to feel him, but she just…couldn't.

_What are you waiting for?_ her inner voice asked._ Kiss him._

Smiling at her cowardice, Sara lifted a small shoulder in reply and reluctantly removed her hand. _I don't want to kiss him when he's not able to kiss me back,_ she replied._ I want _him_ to kiss _me_. _She cast him once last glance, kissing him tenderly with her eyes, and was turning back toward the door, headed once more to her lonely and very uncomfortable couch, when a second, naughtier idea suddenly popped into her head.

She couldn't, could she?

_Why not? You're both adults and have shared much tighter space in the past._

_Should I wake him? Ask permission to share his bed?_ Sara shrugged. After all, he'd told her to make herself at home. If she woke him, she'd only be making him uncomfortable and he'd no doubt insist on moving to the couch. She couldn't have that. Still, she couldn't just _slip_ into his bed, without him knowing. Could she?

"Griss," she whispered, "Grissom."

Not a flicker.

She hesitated. But she was so tired. What would it matter if she borrowed a tiny corner of the bed for just a couple of hours? Grissom would never know. It was a purely practical solution. _Strictly for the good of the lab, _she reminded herself.

She placed the heel of her hand against his bare shoulder and pushed gently but firmly. He rolled away, leaving a nice, empty space for her. Sara climbed in between the sheets, her duvet slipping, long forgotten to the ground. _Oh, heaven._ She sank her head back on the pillow and stretched her legs. The sheets were warm from Grissom's body and gave off a faint masculine smell, sweet and comforting. She closed her eyes, almost groaning aloud with pleasure and relief. The knots in her muscles were beginning to loosen when Grissom made a sudden snorting noise, turned and flung an arm across her waist.

_Shit!_

This presumably was his instinctive reaction to having a woman in his bed, since he obviously was asleep. Sara's heart suddenly felt heavy with disappointment; she'd assumed – wrongly, it would appear – that this Charlotte was…nobody. But what if Grissom's heart was already taken? Had been taken all this time she'd been pining for him? What if Grissom was merely being a sympathetic boss to her, a kind host and a good friend? What if she had misread his intentions and taken advantage?

_Oh, God. This is a mistake, a terrible mistake. I should have never left the couch and walked to his bedroom. I should have never slipped into his bed, into his arms._

Sara softly picked off his arm and placed it on top of the covers. She would just slip back out of bed and go back to the couch. She couldn't risk ruining their existing relationship. But before she had time to move, he gave a sleepy mutter and put his arm right back. Holding her breath, she gently picked it off her again. He put it back and this time, gathered her to him with a contented little moan.

_Oh, God, what have I done? What do I do?_

Caught under the weight of his arm, his strong forearm pressing snugly against her stomach, his hand resting on her hip, she didn't dare take a breath. _Here I am, after so many years of dreaming of being in bed with you, and you don't even know it. Probably don't even want it._ But the feel of his body alongside hers, its strength, its warmth, its smell…she closed her eyes and took a deep breath…the pull was just too great.

_It's not right. _

_It _feels _right though, _Sara argued, _doesn't it?_

_Yeah, it does. Like you've finally come home._

_I'll just make sure I wake up before him._

Sara gave a long yawn and turned on her side toward him. Thoughts of a leather-clad Charlotte long pushed out of her head, she watched lovingly as he slept for a long moment before edging nearer as quietly as she could until her mouth was only a kiss away from his. He exhaled a long noisy but contented breath, his mouth curled upward into a soft smile as he settled himself even closer to her.

Her heart heavy with love, she brought a trembling hand up and stroked feather-light fingers over his eyes, over his lips, tracing their contour. But despite her dying to, she wouldn't kiss him. The day Grissom finally chose to kiss her – if he ever did – would be the day he'd be telling her with that one kiss he was all hers. She'd known him long enough to know that to be the truth.

Grissom's even breathing lolling her to sleep Sara yawned again and slipped her hand over his on her waist.

Finally where she belonged, she was asleep in seconds.


	7. Chapter 7

Grissom woke with a tremendous sense of well-being. Every muscle was relaxed, each limb heavy with sleep. For a while, he lay utterly still in his warm cocoon, letting consciousness seep back, incapable of even the minor muscular effort of raising his eyelids. A golden light, the afternoon sun streaking in through the edges of the curtains danced at the rim of his closed eyes. He reached down and idly scratched himself, his mouth stretching wide in a yawn.

Sara was in his arms.

His yawn morphed into a wistful smile. This wasn't new to him. In his dreams, he often held Sara in his arms as they slept. And yet today, here, now it felt strangely different. It felt _real_. Never before had the feel of her body, her warmth, her strength and softness been so close, so overwhelming in their intensity. Never before had her scent permeated his nostrils so vividly, her smell so sweet and wonderful been so vibrant. Unconsciously, he settled himself more deeply in the bed, feeling the curve of her back in his chest, his late afternoon morning glory pressing tantalisingly close.

Sara was in his arms. He was in Heaven. He rolled his head against the pillow, fluttered his eyes open and nearly died of shock. Sara _was_ in his arms. _She_ was in his arms? _What the hell?_ He froze, petrified into stillness. _Think back buddy. What did you do? What did you say? Did you get your wires crossed? Should _you_ be on the couch? There must be a reasonable explanation._ _There has to be a reasonable explanation. _He couldn't think of one. How? When? _Why?_

_Does any of that matter? _his inner voice asked._ Isn't this your dream come true?_

_No-Yes! _He scrunched his eyes shut in dread. _What do I do? What do I say?_

His mind was blank. All he could do was lie on his side, immobile and afraid to take a breath. He closed his eyes and concentrated in taking deep slow breaths in order to slow down the loud drumming of his heart so he could listen to the quiet way she breathed. He longed for her to turn round so he could see the beauty of her face as she slept. He longed for her to wake and tell him that all this wasn't just a dream, a hallucination, his mind and senses playing cruel tricks on him.

He wanted to believe that this was real.

He gently rested his arm over her side, his hand cupping the small swell of her stomach through her top, and pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder blade. _Oh, God, this is how I want to wake up every day._ The passion of the previous morning, the physical and primitive need for her that had manifested itself so cruelly in the shower and had so easily overwhelmed him now made way to an immense wave of love. There was no way on Earth at that moment in time as his lips lingered on her skin that a man could love another woman more than he did Sara.

He raised himself on an elbow and gazed at her over her shoulder for a long time, his hand itching to push back the strap of her top that had worked its way loose down her arm. He slipped his hand under his pillow, resisting the temptation to touch, to stroke, to kiss, lest he woke her and broke the spell. Oh, he was under her spell, all right. He could stay like this for ever.

Sara moved, muttering to herself in her sleep and he gently lifted his arm, giving her room to turn. All of a sudden, he didn't care if she woke up and found him watching; all he wanted, all he could think about was how wonderful it would be for her smile to be the first thing he saw. She slowly shuffled back nestling herself closer to him, into his…warmth and Grissom gasped aloud at the feel. He closed his eyes and swallowed painfully, willing his body not to be so…responsive.

He closed his eyes and out of the blue, Ecklie's ugly face flashed in front of him. He startled, then sighed as he remembered why his subconscious was being so cruel, his glance slipping toward the alarm clock on the bedside table. Damn Ecklie and his budget meetings. Still, he had no choice; he had to go.

_You got plenty of time,_ his inner voice murmured. _Screw Ecklie. Stay in bed five more minutes._

Reluctantly, Grissom detangled himself and quietly slipped out of bed, standing on the bedside rug tugging at his pyjama front opening, pulling it shut. Somehow, being out of the warm cocoon made everything even more real and the consequences of his actions hit him full blow. Shame burnt his cheeks crimson, his eyes wide with disbelief and powerlessness as he gazed down at his own body. _Oh, dear God, _he gasped struck down by a sudden thought. _I would have woken up if something had happened, wouldn't I? I would have known?_ At first glance he couldn't see any evidence of…inappropriate behaviour. Besides, they were still wearing their own clothes…the right way round too.

He tiptoed to the other side of the bed, his face softening and his worry subsiding as he allowed himself the small pleasure of watching Sara unguarded while she slept. Oh, and how quietly she slept too. How still and peaceful she looked. Her eyes were motionless, not even a flicker of movement behind her eyelids; her lips slightly parted to allow a gentle ebb and flow of breath.

She laid on her side, turned away from where he laid a moment ago, one cheek hugging the pillow, the other one flushed from sleep. He couldn't help the loving smile adorning his lips any more than the pounding in his heart. He reached out a tentative hand and tucked a strand of hair that had caught in the corner of her mouth away from her face, keeping his fingers on her skin far longer than necessary.

As though conscious of his scrutiny, Sara took in a sudden breath and smiled in her sleep, sinking her cheek deeper into the pillow. Grissom quickly jerked his hand away lest he should wake her and wondered at her dreams. Were they filled with thoughts of him, he wondered? But all she did was wriggle into a new position, seemingly seeking the heat that had disappeared with him and pulled the sheet closer her body.

Grissom gently pulled the sheet all the way up so that it covered her almost to her chin. "Sleep sweet Sara,"he whispered, tenderly touching his fingers to his lips and then to hers.

He moved back, reluctantly, afraid that at any moment she would rouse and there he'd be, caught like a rabbit in her deep chocolate eyes. He swiftly retreated to the sanctity of the master bathroom, quickly thinking better of it. The sound of his shower would most certainly wake her and she obviously needed her sleep. For whatever reason, at some point after he'd gone to sleep she had walked into his bedroom, into his bed and into his arms, seeking…comfort maybe? Warmth? Dare he hope…him? Whatever it was, he was glad she had.

_Maybe she sleepwalks,_ his inner voice teased.

_Maybe._

He gathered all the necessaries to get ready and moved to the main bathroom, shutting the bedroom door as quietly as he could after him. Like the well-oiled machine that he was, he made a quick stop to the laundry room to transfer their clothes from the washer to the dryer, took a moment to fill the kettle and put it to boil and turn the oven on before hiding himself away in the shower.

_This could be awkward,_ he told himself, _when she wakes up._

_Just take your cue from her. Act casually. And be yourself. _

Grissom re-emerged ten minutes later smelling and looking his best. His damp hair curled in all the right places and his beard was freshly trimmed. Dressed only in his robe, he padded back to the kitchen and slipped two part-baked half baguettes in the oven for their lunch. He turned the local radio station on low, humming to the tune currently playing while making coffee. Surely the smell of fresh coffee would get her out of bed, wouldn't it? He poured some orange juice into two tall glasses, some cereal into bowls, which he merrily set on the kitchen island.

_You could put all this on a tray,_ his inner voice suggested. _Add a rose to it. Make it special._

Grissom shook his head. _And where would I find a rose at this time of year, huh?_

_You're a CSI. You figure it out._

_Even if I could…magically conjure up a plant or something, it would be a little presumptuous on my part, wouldn't it?_

_Why do you think she slipped into your bed last night, huh? Wasn't she being a little presumptuous?_

Grissom sighed and opened a can of tunafish, which he drained into a sieve. The warm smell of Fresh bread soon tickled his nostrils and he turned the oven off, setting the baguettes to cool on the side. He was wondering whether he should chance going to the bedroom and grab some clean clothes when he heard the ping of the dryer. He headed for the laundry room, emptied the dryer, shaking out the creases in their garments and quickly got dressed with yesterday's clean and still warm clothes.

He was beginning to fold Sara's clothes into a neat pile when he jumped out of his skin, startled by the shrill ring of the house phone. What if it was dispatch? Or worse, someone from the lab who would recognise her voice? Remembering that she was still sleeping in his bed and that she might pick up the phone on the bedside table by mistake he rushed to the kitchen phone.

"Grissom," he answered in his customary brisk manner on the second ring.

"Is this a bad time?" the voice asked. There was no ignoring the snide innuendo in the man's voice. "You sound a little breathless. Am I getting you out of bed?"

Grissom closed his eyes and rubbed his face. "Conrad, what can I do for you?"

"Gil, why are you whispering?" There was a pause while Ecklie put two and two together and amazingly got four. Shortly after, Grissom heard the lab director's tell-tale sneer.

"I'm not whispering," Grissom said in a whisper, "I'm-"

"Anyway, Gil, it doesn't matter," Ecklie cut in impatiently. "You're late."

Grissom frowned and glanced at the wall clock in the kitchen. "The meeting's not scheduled to start for another hour. I'll be there."

"Didn't you get the memo?"

"What memo?"

"The one I put on your desk first thing this morning. I put it right in the middle of your desk where you couldn't miss it. McKeen asked me to bring the meeting forward, which I did."

Grissom scrunched his eyes shut. He'd kind of rushed out of the lab in a hurry at the end of last shift. He let out a long breath. "Okay. Okay. Are you at PD?"

"Yeah, as scheduled."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

"You only leave five minutes away from the lab, Gil. What's going to take so long?"

Unwilling to give his line manager more ammunitions than he already had, Grissom grit his teeth. "I'll be there as soon as I can," he said before hanging up.

All of a sudden, there was an urgency to his actions and he rushed back to the laundry room. He didn't as much fold the remainder of Sara's clothes as put them in a haphazard pile, which he took to the lounge and set on the couch ready for her. He was hurrying back downstairs when he noticed she had played the next move of their chess game. He paused, just long enough to smile at her bold move and get himself out of check.

He drank his juice while eating some cereal and making them both tunafish sandwiches for lunch, adding an apple for both. He delved into the back of his cupboard for his secret stash of Twinkies Cakes and pursed his face in annoyance when he realised he was down to his last one. Still, she was worth it and with a small begrudging shrug of the shoulder gave her the last one. All the while, he kept stealing glances toward the corridor, expecting to see Sara but Ecklie's call hadn't woken her as he feared. He was rummaging in his drawers for a pad of paper and a pen to scribble a quick explanatory note to Sara when his inner voice whispered:

_Don't leave her a note. Go wake her. Explain._

_I can't. She needs her sleep. We don't have time to talk now, not properly anyway. We can do that later._

He wrote a few lines explaining that he'd had to go in, bidding her to stay as long as she needed to. He wrote down the alarm code for the house and even found a spare front door key for her. He raced to his study, gathered the budget predictions paperwork he needed for the meeting and hurriedly shoved it into his briefcase. On his way out, he grabbed his lunch, his wallet, his cell – noticing Ecklie's missed call – and his jacket. He was slipping on his shoes and half-way out of the door when he felt Sara's eyes on him. He paused with his hand on the handle, turning around.

Oh, God. There she stood at the bottom of the stairs, wrapped tight in the duvet, looking sexy, all tousled and lovely, a sight that melted his heart.

He flashed her a quick apologetic smile. "Sara, I'm sorry. I gotta go. I've explained everything in the note…on the kitchen island."

Disappointment written all over her face, Sara turned her head toward where he was pointing and then back to him. "Grissom, please, just wait a minute. Let me explain."

Grissom glanced at his watch, his smile crisping a little. "There's nothing to explain, Sara."

"Please, don't run away. We need to talk."

"We do. But not now. Not like this. I'm late enough as it is." He sighed and picked up his briefcase. "I'm supposed to be in a meeting with Ecklie and the under-sheriff as we speak and-"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

_Put her mind at rest; she's looking a little confused. _"You didn't," he said warmly.

"Okay." Sara looked down self-consciously. "It's just…I didn't think you'd realise. I thought I'd be up first and that…" she stopped talking abruptly and smiled, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's fine. We'll talk later."

_Kiss her. _"We will." He checked his watch again.

She noticed his look. "It's fine." The nod of the head was understanding enough but the smile was forced and resigned, her tone a little on the curt side. "If you got to go, you got to."

"I do." He opened the front door wide and was half-way out when he paused, hesitating.

_Kiss her, you idiot._ _Don't make the same mistake again._

_I can't. Not now. Not like this._

"Listen Sara," he said, turning and smiling uncertainly. "Stay as long as you need. I've made you some breakfast and some lunch for later and your clothes are on the couch and-" He swallowed the knot in his throat, his smile so tight that it was beginning to hurt. "I'll see you at work," he whispered his heart sinking in his chest at his cowardice.

* * *

A/N: Have a great weekend everyone! And a great bank holiday weekend for my British chums. I'm praying for sunshine and warmth!


	8. Chapter 8

Tears burning at the back of her eyes Sara closed her eyes, turning away from the door before Grissom had even shut it. _God, what have I done?_ she asked herself, slowly reaching a hand out to the banister as she crumpled onto the bottom step of his stairs.

_At least, he didn't get to see the tears streaming down your face,_ her inner voice piped in crossly.

_Oh, God, he couldn't even look me in the eye,_ Sara lamented._ He couldn't get out of the door fast enough. And please, please don't say, "I told you so."_

_I won't. But this is all of your own doing, isn't it?_

Sara scrunched her eyes shut tighter, refusing to let her tears spill, and balled her fists as she let out a low guttural, frustrated growl. She couldn't stay in his house a second longer. She got to her feet and dragging the duvet after her, rushed up the stairs to the couch, hurriedly gathering her things into her knapsack. She'd made a dreadful mistake. _Two dreadful mistakes,_ she thought angrily. _Oh, how can you have been so stupid and totally destroy an already fragile friendship? _

She was shoving her hand cream in the front compartment of her bag when she frowned, catching sight of the freshly laundered clothes carefully laid out over one arm of the couch. She looked around the room uncertainly and noticed that Grissom had played his next move on the chess board. Her frown deepened. Not only had he got himself out of check by moving his knight, but he'd also managed to put her queen under attack.

_These are not the actions of a man who's pissed at what you've done, Sara, _her inner voice rationalised. _Think about it. _

Sara pursed her face in thought remembering his parting words. She stood up, peering over the railing toward the kitchen, for the first time hearing the soft music playing on the radio. Breakfast was set waiting. Next to it lay a cellophane-wrapped packed lunch, and his note.

_He seems to have gone to a lot of trouble,_ Sara thought.

_More than just being a good host kind of trouble, _her little voice chimed in, _if you know what I mean._

Could what she had misconstrued as discomfort and eagerness to leave because of what she had done just be nervousness on his part? Sara pondered that thought, padding back down the stairs to the kitchen. Maybe she didn't need to rush off after all. She sighed and read Grissom's scribbled note, her heart warming at the simple way he'd signed it _Gil_.

"Gil," she tried out loud, liking the feel of the one syllable on her tongue. She closed her eyes, a beatific smile forming on her lips. "Gil."

_Maybe, I will stay a little while longer, _she thought, instantly forgetting her earlier distress.

She got some milk from the fridge and poured it over her cereals. She picked up the bowl and glass of orange juice he had prepared and took them to the bathroom. The residual steam and heat of his shower smelled of him and Sara closed her eyes, letting his scent fill her nostrils. She set her breakfast on the edge of the bathtub, pulled the shower curtain out of the way and proceeded to run a hot bath.

"_Make yourself at home,"_ echoed in her head.

Well, she would do just that. Besides, she didn't have a tub at home. Catching sight of his shower gel left open on the edge of the tub, Sara's brow lifted. She checked over her shoulder and shrugging, took a quick, slightly guilty whiff of it. She undressed quickly, her clothes falling in a heap on the floor and sank deep in the hot water, closing her eyes in bliss as it enveloped her.

_God, I could get used to this,_ Sara thought with a blissful smile.

_Shame he isn't here to sponge your back._

Sara's lips curled into a widier, cheekier smile. _Next time._

_If there is a next time._

_There will be a next time,_ she thought with confidence._ Have a little faith. _She let out a long contented sigh and sank deeper until her head was completely submerged, shutting doubting inner Sara out of her mind.

Half an hour later, she re-emerged all wrinkled and smelling and looking her best and despite having a new change of clothes, opted to wear yesterday's clothes. Just because they…she took a deep breath…_smelled_ of him.

She floated from one room to the next, merrily humming to whichever tune was playing on the radio. She opened all the drapes wide, letting in the late afternoon sun, made his bed, wondering whether to change the sheets or not, finally opting not to, and then straightened the lounge and kitchen, all the while finding more and more of Grissom's eclectic things that made his home so comfortable, so secure, so…him.

She was half-way through unloading the dishwasher when the phone rang suddenly. She paused and turned toward it, her hand itching to take the call.

_You can't pick up. It could be work._

_It could be him._

_Let the machine take it; you'll know soon enough._

On the sixth ring the machine clicked in and Grissom's voice filled the room, causing Sara's heart to quicken before she realised with a small twist of sadness that his voice _was_ the machine.

"Hi, Gil," said a bright, cheery, youthful and definitely female voice into the phone as crashing disappointment flooded through Sara. "It's me. I thought you said you'd be home. Anyway, I'll try your cell. Catch you later!"

Sara was out of the house faster than you could say…Charlotte.

When she eventually made it to shift, she was late. Deliberately so. Not too much for her to be conspicuous by her absence but late enough for it to be noticeable if ever _someone_ was actively seeking her out. She was rounding the corner to the locker-room when her ears pricked up. Slowing down, she stopped just outside the door and listened to Nick and Greg's hushed conversation.

"Have you noticed anything different about Grissom?" Nick was asking.

"How do you mean?" the younger CSI replied with interest.

Sara heard a locker door being shut and in case they were on their way out, pretended to be checking her messages on her cell.

"He's…how can I put it…been a little distracted recently," Nick replied after a moment. Sara moved her head a little closer toward the locker room so she could hear better. "He messed up a print at our crime scene yesterday."

"Nooo," Greg replied with disbelief. "The man can lift a print with his eyes closed. Hell, he can lift a print off air."

Nick chuckled. "That's Warrick, Greg."

There was a pause. "Well," Greg then said, lowering his voice even more, "I may know the reason behind Grissom's...distraction. Her name's Charlotte."

"Get out of here!" Nick exclaimed with utter disbelief. "Griss has got a girlfriend?"

_Why is that thought so far-fetched, _Sara wondered.

"Keep your voice down," Greg said, laughing. "Grissom let it slip to _me _that she's a racer. I googled her as soon as I could. Got _three_ possible hits with links to Vegas or the area."

"No! Get out of here!"

Sara heard Greg rummage inside a bag and she tried to peer in but was too scared of getting caught.

"Look," Greg then said, "I printed it all off. Number one: A Charlotte Molina, aged thirty. A speedway racer from Arizona. Not bad looking."

"Far too young," Nick dismissed in a chuckle.

Sara was beginning to feel hot under the collar.

"Okay," Greg said with a shuffle of pages. "Now, take a look at number two!"

"No! She's a babe," Nick said in a mocking tone that implied that Grissom could never score a 'babe'. "Come on, Greg!"

Sara's top was about to blow.

"Well, that only leaves us Charlotte number three," Greg continued in a sigh, cutting into Sara's fantasy of wringing Nick's neck. "But…I don't know…there's something a little iffy there."

"Come on! Hit me with it," Nick said before bursting out with demented laughter. "My God, Greg, where did you find this?" There was a pause. "Charlotte in the Willows?" the Texan uttered in a snigger. "That's not even a good name for a porn star, let alone a racehorse!"

"A pure breed," Greg defended weakly.

"Hey," Sara said as she breezily drifted in, causing Greg to jump and shove the printout into his bag. She turned away toward her locker, trying to hide her grin and let slip she'd been eavesdropping. Despite still hurting from her recent _heartbreak_, she couldn't help smirk at the image of Grissom in bed with a horse.

"Hiya, sweetie," Nick said casually enough but Sara didn't miss the look he shared with Greg. "Grab you're stuff, I'm driving."

Sara fiddled restlessly with her locker key for a moment and then banged the back of her fist onto it, yielding it open. "Why?" she said, angrily tossing her packed lunch inside. "Where are we going?" She turned round, smiling brightly at her two colleagues.

"The big man's sending us out all the way to Pahrump."

Sara dropped the pretence, her face darkening ominously. "That's going to take all night just to get there and back, let alone collect anything. I can't go. I've got my arson case to finish."

Nick shared a look with Greg. "You know how it works," he told Sara.

"Yeah," Sara said, her anger returning with a vengeance as she stormed out of the locker room toward Grissom's office. "I know how it works. Just give me five minutes!"

"You won't find him, Sara," Nick called after her. "He's gone to some mummified remains out near Boulder City."

Sara stopped and turned, walking back toward the locker room. "How convenient," she grumbled.

"You okay?" Greg asked, rubbing his hand on her shoulder.

"Peachy!"

* * *

"Sara?"

Jumping out of her skin, Sara looked up from the evidence she had been studying and shared a wary look with Greg. Grissom's tone didn't bode well.

"Can I talk to you in my office?" he added shortly.

_Shit. This is it! This is where he tells me that my love for him isn't reciprocated._

_Yep,_ agreed her inner voice.

Sara turned toward the door in time to see Grissom's retreating back. She sighed.

"Huh, huh," Greg said in a whisper. "He didn't look happy."

The glare she turned at Greg was menacingly cold and hard. The younger CSI's eyes widened in fear and he quickly returned his attention to the evidence spread out on the light table in front of them.

"Aren't you going to…go and talk to him?" Greg asked hesitantly after a moment, not daring to look up. "You know how he doesn't like to be made to wait."

"I'm busy," Sara snapped. "He can wait."

Greg registered a look of surprise. "Is there something I should know?"

Sara let out a loud sigh and scraped her chair back noisily. "Can't I get any peace anywhere?" she berated loudly, storming out of the room, headed toward Grissom's office.

Grissom had left his office door open and Sara stepped right in, closing the door behind her. "You wanted to talk to me?" she said without preamble, standing rigidly by the door, ready to bolt if necessary.

Grissom startled, peering up from the case file he had been reviewing over the top of his glasses. Despite her anger, Sara's heart skipped a beat and she sighed inwardly at the sight. He put down his half-eaten baguette sandwich, wiped his mouth and slowly indicated with his hand for her to take a seat. She didn't, folding her arms over her chest instead. Looking a little confused at her behaviour, Grissom sighed and removed his glasses.

_No,_ Sara bid silently despite herself._ Keep them on_. _They suit you._

"Yes," he finally said in response to her initial question. "I need…We need to talk."

_Ah, there we go. _Sara remained silent waiting for him to strike the first blow.

Growing visibly more and more confused by her hostility, Grissom stared at her for a long moment and then closing his eyes took a deep breath. "It's about the case," he finally blurted out.

"The case?" she repeated, thrown completely by his curve ball. "The case?"

"The arson case you're working on?" he said uncertainly.

_Sara, stop and think before you say something you will regret,_ her inner voice suggested wisely. But her frustrations getting the better of her, Sara finally blew her top. "You sent me to Pahrump…with Nick," she spat. "I haven't made a start on the arson case yet."

"Oh." He paused but then shook his head. "The evidence in Pahrump was time sensitive Sara," he said, his professional tone back on. "Your arson case could wait."

_Don't look at him. Don't show him you're hurting._ "Yeah, I get it. Is that everything?"

"No." He looked down toward his desk and ran a hand over his beard. "Sara, I…about this afternoon…I wanted to apologise for my rushing off like that."

_He's trying to let you down gently, _her inner voice murmured in her ear. _Don't take your frustrations out on him when you're angry at yourself._

Sara swallowed her pride. "It's okay," she said quietly, not meeting his gaze. "I understand. I crossed the line and I shouldn't have. I took advantage of your hospitability and that's the last thing I wanted to do." Sara glanced up.

"Oh." A look of confusion crossed Grissom's eyes. "Is it?"

Sara forced a smile, holding his gaze. "Sure. It was nothing really. The couch was uncomfortable and I was done in. I didn't think you'd notice but you did and..."

"Oh," he repeated, smiling a little uncertainly. "Okay." He paused, averting his eyes to his lunch. "So…hum, how-"

There was a curt knock and the door flung open, interrupting Grissom mid-sentence. Grissom and Sara both turned their heads toward Greg who glanced toward Sara, flashing her a 'I-came-to-rescue-you.-Do-you-need-rescuing?' desperate look.

"Have you never heard of knocking?" Grissom bellowed, his chair crashing as he suddenly stood up.

Sara jumped at the intensity of Grissom's anger. Tears threatening to spill, she turned and burst past Greg out of Grissom's office.

"Sara!" Grissom called.

But Sara didn't stop. Not even when she felt Greg's comforting hand on her shoulder as he caught up with her outside the layout room. "Is everything okay?" he asked a little breathlessly.

Sara took a deep breath, willing her tears away. "Everything's peachy," she replied, shaking his hand off her shoulder without turning. "I got work to do. I'll…catch you later."

It was with a heavy heart that Sara got to her locker at the end of shift, yet to find herself a bed for the day. Grissom had kept himself in his office and her out of his way. It was better that way, really. She rubbed a weary hand over her sore neck and opened her locker, letting out a drawn-out breath. A small sheet of paper neatly folded in two fluttered to the floor. Checking over her shoulder, Sara frowned and bent down to pick it up. She opened it with trembling hands, her heart quickening despite herself as she read:

_I'm sorry._

_Please, come home. _

_G._

_He's signed it G,_ Sara thought with a pang in her heart. _Not Gil. G _

_Come home._ She so wanted to believe his words. So wanted to believe _him_. His house key burned a hole in her pocket but the bright voice on his answering machine nagged at her and she shook her head, scrunching the note into a tight ball which she tossed in the trashcan.

_You're doing the right thing, Sara. There're only so many times your heart can be broken._

Sara nodded to the voice in her head and hauled her swim bag out of her locker. She banged the door shut and took the time to affix the small padlock to it.

* * *

A/N: Oh, I am having so much fun...


	9. Chapter 9

"This woman, what did she come for?" Grissom asked breathlessly.

The desk clerk looked up, jumping back and eyed Grissom suspiciously. Leaning forward over the counter and looking more than a little harassed the CSI stared back, needing a moment to catch his breath.

"It's not how it looks," he told the clerk with a sigh, lifting the CSI ID that still hung around his neck. "I'm a cop. We're tailing her."

"Oh." Straightaway, the woman relaxed and removed her hand from the panic button hidden under the counter. "She's come to swim. Comes a couple of times of week." She looked toward where Sara had disappeared to. "Is she dangerous? Would you like me to call security?"

"No. No, no. That won't be necessary." Grissom pursed his face in thought.

_At least, now, you know she's safe, _his inner voice said. To which Grissom nodded. _The best thing to do is to wait for her outside. _

_Explain to her how she got the wrong end of the stick? _Grissom suggested.

_That's right. Apologise, but properly this time. No half-assed attempts. And no more notes._

_Kiss her? _Grissom asked.

_Now you're talking._

With no more time to waste, Grissom took his wallet out of his pocket. "How much for a swim?" he asked the attendant.

_We're not waiting for her to come out?_

Grissom shook his head._ I'm done waiting._

The woman pointed toward a tariff sheet. "It depends. Do you want sauna and hot tub with it?"

Grissom's brow arched worriedly. He shrugged and after carefully weighing up his options, nodded his head, his gaze flicking to the swimming paraphernalia on sale behind the counter. "I'm going to need one of these towels there," he said, pointing to a blue one. "And some swimming shorts too."

"O-kay," the woman replied with confusion. She moved toward the display and grabbed a cellophane-wrapped blue towel. "What size for the shorts?"

"XL?" Grissom hazarded.

The woman had a search. "I'm sorry. We're out." Grissom glanced down at himself, wondering whether he'd be too big to fit in a large when she said, "I got these in XL, though."

Grissom's face fell and he sighed, eying suspiciously the small triangle of cloth that was supposed to cover him.

_I'm not wearing that! _his inner voice shrieked. _Why don't we just…go wait for Sara outside?_

But Grissom was a man on a mission and he wasn't leaving without his woman. "I'll take the Speedos," he told the clerk with determination.

Blue towel firmly wrapped around his midriff, Grissom stepped out of the showers on to the pool side. The sauna was to the left, the Jacuzzi in front of him, empty. He was going to check the sauna when out of the corner of his eye he saw her.

His heart stopped.

She was on the opposite side of the pool, in the far lane half-way through swimming a length. Mesmerised, he watched from a distance as long graceful arms stroked through the water powerfully. On reaching the other end, Sara took a quick breath and did an athletic quick underwater turn, headed in the opposite direction. Her long brown locks were tamed in a black swim cap, her warm chocolate eyes encased in black goggles.

_She's looking mighty fierce out there._

_She's beating the crap out of that water, you mean,_ Grissom countered.

_Yeah. Maybe this can wait till she's done._

_Now, who's the coward?_

Never taking his eyes off Sara Grissom gripped his towel up and walked round to the other side of the pool. He waited until she had turned again, swimming away from him, to whip off his towel. He tossed it onto a nearby bench and hurriedly sat down at the end of the lane, dipping one foot into the water. He froze, not with shock at the temperature of the water – which quite honestly was way too cool for his liking – but suddenly assailed by overwhelming fears. What if Sara resented his being there? What if she resented him invading her private space like that?

He was considering beating a swift retreat when out of the blue and mermaid-like Sara emerged out of the water directly in front of him. Water streamed down her face and shoulders, revealing her glistening wet, perfectly formed and toned upper body, her slick one-piece black swimming costume clinging in all the right places. The breath caught in his throat and speechless he could only gawk as she pulled the goggles off her eyes and onto her head.

_She doesn't look overly happy to find you here,_ his inner voice whispered.

"I didn't know you swam here," Sara said a little breathlessly. There was no mistaking the shortness in her tone.

_This is a mistake,_ Grissom thought, swallowing. "I-I don't," he said quietly. "Well, not very often." Sara nodded, but he could tell she wasn't buying it. "You've been coming here long?" he then asked, shaking his head at his unfortunate use of a dire pick-up line.

Sara gave a little snort and Grissom couldn't tell whether she was amused or just exasperated. She lifted a shoulder in a small shrug, her expression darkening ominously. "Ever since you told me to get a diversion."

_Ouch! That hurt._

_I deserved that. _Grissom smiled uneasily, nodding his head in understanding of her words. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

Sara snorted again. "I know," she said curtly. "That's what your note said. The second one, the one you shoved in my locker." Her voice was steadily rising. "Why can't you just talk to me, Grissom? Instead of…throwing me curve balls all the time."

His brow arched at the metaphor. "I didn't know I was doing that," he replied candidly, looking perplexed.

Sara gave a small nod of the head and lowered her goggles onto her eyes, ending the conversation.

_Well, what did you think?_ his inner voice asked._ That she'd just jump into your arms?_

"Don't mind me," he said as she was about to push off the wall. "I'll just wait here. You carry on."

She paused, hesitating. "You're not swimming?"

"I didn't come here to swim."

Sara turned, her brow raised in interest. "What did you come here for, then?"

Grissom shrugged, his lips pursing into a lob-sided smile. "To…watch you?"

This last comment made Sara smile and she sighed, tilting her head the way she does when she's trying to decipher a cryptic clue. "I'm sorry too," she told him after a moment. "I made you uncomfortable in your own home and I should never have crossed that line."

_There's your chance. Don't mess it up!_ "No, Sara, you didn't cross any line." He smiled uncertainly and forgetting all about his attire, gingerly lowered himself into the water.

Sara stifled a smile. "Nice trunks," she said, breaking the awkwardness.

Surprised, Grissom looked up and knew by the way she was looking at him that he was half-way to being forgiven. He pulled a face at the temperature of the water. _Oh, why do I find it so difficult to find the right words? _"You didn't…make me feel uncomfortable," he stammered at last. "It's…me."

Sara's face darkened in disappointment. "Oh. Sure."

_Not the 'It's not you. It's me' line, you dimwit! _"No, Sara. You don't understand. I loved waking up next to you like that." He looked all around him a little self-consciously and lowered his voice. "I loved you being the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, feeling the weight of your body on mine…I loved it so much that…" he let his words trail, looking down toward the water to hide his shame.

Sara lifted her hand out of the water up to his face. She coaxed it up smiling at him. "So much so that what, Grissom?" she asked, her voice a barely audible whisper.

He looked up, holding her gaze and pursed his face in a small shrug. "It's embarrassing," he said.

His predicament must have been written all over his face because Sara suddenly pinched her lips to hide her amusement.

"Are you laughing at me?" he asked, his mouth twisting in mock-irritation.

"Come on, Grissom. You got to admit it's a little funny," she giggled.

His lips twitched into a small smile and he flicked some water at her face. "A little, maybe."

She flicked some water back at him. "If anything, I…feel flattered," she said in a fit of giggles, turning away.

Laughing too, Grissom looked at the twenty-five metres of water ahead of them and then back at Sara. "Ah, well, if that's the way it's going to be." He nodded toward the deep end. "Last one to the other side gets to sleep on the couch today," he called before pushing himself off the side and gliding away effortlessly into a remarkably-fast-for-someone-his-age front crawl. To his surprise, Sara didn't take the bait and he stopped at the half-way mark, turning around with a frown. Slack-jawed, Sara still stood at the edge of the pool.

_Come on, Sara. I'm trying. Meet me half-way. _"I see what you're doing," he called back cheerily toward her. "You're giving me a head start. In view of the age difference I appreciate the sentiment but I have it on good authority that the couch isn't very comfortable."

Sara's lips curled upward beautifully. "All right," she said before pulling her goggles and diving underwater.

Grissom watched as she caught up to him and then overtook him without coming up for air. He took off after her in a slow-paced breast stroke.

"I win!" Sara exclaimed giddily, touching the opposite side of the pool.

Grissom joined her. "Ah, well."

Her smile turned into a small sulky pout and she pulled off her goggles. "You let me win."

He winked unabashedly at her. "You get to sleep in my bed again," he said before freezing as he realised the implication of his words. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out right…I mean, huh, I mean just that," he stammered. He swallowed his painful embarrassment and shrugged a little helplessly. "_I_ get to sleep on the couch."

Suddenly feeling nervous under Sara's unblinking stare, he looked down, rubbing his hands over his arms self-consciously. "I-I'm…" he shook his head, "I'm cold. I'm going to head out."

It was Sara's fingers gently coaxing his head up that made him shiver, not the cold. "Why have you come here, Grissom?" she asked, her gaze boring into his. "Really."

_Come clean! Do it now. Enough of the pretence._ "I followed you here, all right?" he said a little defensively.

"Why?" Sara asked softly.

Turning away, Grissom shrugged a small shoulder. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No, Grissom, it isn't. Not to me anyway. You keep sending me mixed message." Sara coaxed his head round and smiled tenderly. "_This_ is a little strange for me too, you know" she said softly. She brushed her thumb over a droplet of water caught on his beard. Grissom closed his eyes and gasped, his breath catching in his throat. "This whole thing…" she added waving her hand back and forth between the two of them when he reopened his eyes, "you and me here…like this, it's scary. It's scaring me to death but I _like_ it."

_Come on! Tell her how you feel. _"I like it too," he whispered back solemnly, looking right into her eyes.

Sara's smile broadened in delight. She stared back at him, studying his face in detail and then her eyes took on a cheeky twinkle. Pinching her lips not to give the game away, she looked down at the water and flicked a little up toward his face.

Grissom's eyes widened with wondrous surprise. He narrowed his gaze in mock-irritation but couldn't keep it up. Bursting out laughing and taking up the challenge, he flicked some water back at her.

Sara started to swim backwards away from him. "Don't start something you can't finish," she warned teasingly, using both hands to throw water at him.

"I didn't start this," he said, laughing and splashing back in giddy pleasure.

Attempting a fast escape, Sara turned, diving into the water. Grissom didn't miss a beat and dived after her. Catching her by the foot he gently pulled her back to him, stopping her flight. Sara emerged out of the water and turned toward him. Her grin was wide.

_God, she's lovely._ Grissom's heart filled with love, his expression turning serious as he let go of her leg. "I didn't start this," he repeated quietly.

"I think you did," she replied her expression becoming a mirror of his.

_Come on, buddy. This is it. Don't mess it up._ "Then I can finish it."

Grissom tilted his head to the side, a shy smile suddenly lighting up his features. His heart beating a thousand times a minute and his throat suddenly as dry as the Nevada desert, he slowly leaned across toward Sara and closing his eyes, pressed wet lips to the corner of her mouth. He pulled back hesitantly and watched as Sara's eyes opened, a slow smile forming on her lips.

Suddenly feeling free and elated, he grabbed Sara by the waist and lifted her up out of the water toward him. She let out a short squeal of delight, which Grissom drowned with his lips. This time, their kiss was neither shy nor tentative. It was intense and deep and god, so good and fulfilling and such a long time coming.

The sudden short shrill sound of a whistle startled him and he almost drowned Sara, in his haste to part from her. He turned round abruptly toward the sound, turning a crimson shade as he noticed the stern shake of the lifeguard's head from the other side of the pool. Duly reprimanded for his effrontery, Grissom nodded his head and turned toward Sara whose happy giggle and shiny eyes made his slight embarrassment worthwhile.

"We're going to have to be more careful," she said, echoing his thoughts. "What if Ecklie saw us?"

"Ecklie swims here?" Grissom squawked, his gaze worryingly scanning the faces of the people swimming around them.

Sara shook her head and tugged him by the hand toward the ladder. "Come on, let's go," she said, her voice deep and sexy. "I know somewhere a lot quieter than here."

Grissom couldn't help the look of fear that crossed his face, a look that made Sara burst out with laughter.

"Not for that," she said, shaking her head at him and going up the ladder. "How do you fancy a sauna? At this time of the morning, hardly anybody uses it."

Grissom pursed his face and followed Sara out of the water. He felt a gentle squeeze of his butt, causing him to leap forward in surprise. Thinking Sara was making fun of him in his Speedos, he caught her by the wrist and turned round, his eyes shining with glee.

"Nice trunks, honey," a woman who definitely wasn't Sara told him with a slow teasing wink**.**

Grissom let go of the woman's wrist in a jerk, whipping his head round toward Sara who wasn't even trying to contain her laughter. "Come on, Romeo," she said. "Let's go before they kick us out."

* * *

A/N: I hope you're still enjoying. Let me know. ;-)


	10. Chapter 10

Her head far, far away on Planet Grissom, Sara merrily trotted down the concrete steps leading from the leisure complex to the car lot, the soft morning breeze blowing her chestnut locks dry and away from her face. She was literally floating on air as she skipped along, taking a moment to breathe in the beautiful December morning.

She was happy.

She was rounding the corner toward her car when her heartbeat quickened with excitement. Already waiting and casually leaning against the hood of her car, Grissom was looking down toward the ground, seemingly deep in conversation with himself. His feet were scuffing some loose gravel, his fingers restlessly tapping the side of his leg as he talked. Sara's lips instinctively curling into a wide grin of pleasure, she stopped dead in her tracks and just…took a moment to gaze at him, unguarded.

_You're home, Sara,_ she thought. _This is it. The moment you've been waiting for all these years._

Grissom must have sensed her eyes on him because he suddenly looked up, his face immediately lighting up with sheer pleasure upon seeing her. He eagerly pushed off her car, lifting his hand in a small wave and took a few steps in her direction.

_He is happy,_ Sara thought. _He looks genuinely happy to see me_. She returned his warm smile, her heart filling with joy as she took in his shining eyes, the youthful look in them and his still damp, short-cropped hair that made him rather…she swallowed…_handsome_.

_Sexy,_ her inner voice amended.

_Oh, God,_ she thought,_ how I love this man._

_Wow, Sara, one step at a time, girl. What's with the 'L' word? You don't want to scare him away! _

Sara quickly covered the distance between them and brought a self-conscious hand up to her hair. "It's a little messy," she apologised. "But I knew you'd be waiting and-"

Grissom tilted his head to the side, smiling. "No," he murmured quietly. "It's lovely. You…you look lovely."

_Oh, my God!_ Sara's inner voice shrieked._ That is the nicest thing he's ever said to you._

_No. Not the nicest,_ Sara countered._ That was when we worked the ice hockey case together. Remember?_

_Oh, yeah,_ her inner voice said with a long, wistful sigh._ I remember. _

Sara swallowed the lump in her throat, her smile turning shy. "You think so?"

Grissom slowly nodded his head, his smile so tender and loving that Sara just wanted to throw herself in his arms.

_Keep it together, Sara. Keep it together._

Grissom lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. "I like it…like this…you know," he waved his fingers toward her hair in a rotating motion, "when you let it just…curl naturally." He ran his tongue over his licks in obvious nervousness. "It's a little untamed…just like you."

Sara's heart stopped.

_Now, _this_ is the nicest thing he's ever said to you,_ her inner voice whispered.

Sara stood speechless and staring, mesmerised by his bright blue eyes, the stupid grin stuck to her face.

_Come on, breathe! And pick your jaw up off the floor!_

"Shame about the sauna," Grissom said, startling Sara out of her daydream. "I've never been in one before."

Sara quickly checked for drool and gently brushing past him, unlocked the trunk of her car. "Never?" she asked with disbelief as she slung her swim bag in. "I swear it's generally …just me in there." She shut the trunk and turned, finding herself almost in his arms.

Grissom smiled, reaching across to tuck a stray lock of hair away from the corner of her mouth. "There's always next time," he whispered, his hand gently moving to cup her cheek. He tilted his head to the side and parted his lips in a kiss-like text-book manoeuvre.

Her mouth yielded willingly at Grissom's tentative kiss, his lips so soft and warm, gently caressing one moment, more eagerly probing the next, and not surprisingly for Sara, tasting…of home. He pulled back almost reluctantly, and sadly for Sara far too soon, the tip of his thumb brushing back and forth along her cheekbone, and stared at her, a happy smile dancing on his lips.

Sara smiled and stared back at him dreamily, expecting at any moment to hear the shrill sound of her alarm clock. Movement in the car lot caught her eye and sliding out of his grasp, Sara cast a wary glance all around them, thinking that perhaps they needed to be more careful.

"So, you're thinking of taking up swimming?" she asked casually.

Grissom seemed to catch himself too and shrugged, checking over his shoulder for prying eyes. "Why not?" he replied. "If it means spending a little more time with you."

_Who is this man?_

Gobsmacked, Sara could only gape at him. "Who are you and where's the real Grissom?" she whispered solemnly, unable to truly believe that this wasn't just a dream.

"He's still here," Grissom replied just as seriously, tapping his temple. "I've just locked him away."

Unexpectedly, he took her by the hand and without a word of explanation, took off at a brisk pace toward the main road, tugging her along.

"Where are we going?" Sara asked, giggling, as she tried to keep up with him.

Grissom turned round but didn't stop. "There's no food in the house," he replied. "And all that swimming's made me hungry."

"What swimming?" Sara teased, noticing the flashing neon light of _Maggie's_ diner across the road.

The place was empty and they chose a booth in the far corner and away from the window. Grissom waited until Sara had sat down to sit across from her. The waitress came, placed two menus on the table, set two covers and with a smile, left them to it.

It took Sara one glance at the menu to make her selection. Grissom however took quite a while longer.

Sara watched with interest as he meticulously studied the choices on offer, every so often peering over the top of the menu toward her and then back down again. Remarking his strange behaviour Sara grew more and more puzzled by it.

"What is it, Grissom?" she asked. "Don't you like what they serve? We can go somewhere else, if you want. We don't have to-"

Grissom removed his glasses and put down his menu. He smiled and slid his hand across the table, reaching for Sara's. He turned it over and stroked the fingers of his other hand over its palm, hesitating to talk.

"What is it?" Sara asked quietly, her puzzlement making way to concern. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Second thoughts about what?" he asked looking up in confusion. Sara shrugged helplessly. "Oh. No. No, no," he was quick to reassure, smiling as he brought her hand up to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss into it. "No. No second thoughts."

"What is it then?" she probed gently, repressing a shiver of excitement at the intimate contact. "You can tell me."

"It's just that…you know, like…," he paused, faltering. "You remember the ground beef case?"

Sara registered a look of bewilderment. "The what?"

Grissom shook his head, changing tack. "You're a vegetarian, right?"

Sara nodded uncertainly. "Well, I don't eat meat but I still eat fish and eggs…" her gaze narrowed suspiciously and then softened as she understood his dilemma. She laughed. "I don't expect you to become a vegetarian, if that's what you're worried about."

"Well, no. I know that." He paused. "But I remember you saying that it pained you just to look at meat and…"

"Grissom," she said firmly, interrupting him mid-flow. "I don't want you to change anything because of me. You eat meat. That's fine. Just…don't expect me to cook it for you."

"You cook?" The disbelief in his voice was evident.

Sara pursed her face in mock-chagrin, recognising his teasing for what it was. Pouting playfully, she tried to pull her hand out from his grasp.

Grissom tugged it back, pressing another soft kiss into it. "I'm sorry," he murmured into it as he peered up toward her. "That was a cheap shot."

Sara shrugged. "I may not be as culinary savvy as you but I can scramble my own eggs. Thank you very much."

Grissom's brow rose as though ready to fire a quick retort but the waitress appeared out of nowhere, cutting their playful banter short. She turned their cups over and filled them up with coffee. "Anything to eat?" she asked, nodding toward the menus.

"I'll have the pancakes – chef's special," said Sara. "With all the trimmings."

"I'll just…have the same," Grissom said.

Sara waited until the waitress had left to throw him one of her dark looks.

What?" he defended lightly with a shrug. "I feel like pancakes today."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Besides, I'm looking forward to you scrambling my eggs tomorrow."

Sara's brow rose and she pinched her lips in amusement at his poor turn of phrase, turning her head toward the window. She smiled, catching their distant reflection in it and thinking that she rather liked what she was seeing.

"Did you mean what you said?" Sara asked a little hesitantly after the waitress had brought their breakfast.

Grissom looked up, his knife and fork already in hand. "When?" he asked, shovelling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

Sara didn't look up, just concentrated on cutting up her food. "In the pool earlier?"

"I said a lot of things…in the pool earlier," he replied between two mouthfuls. Sara looked up, chewing. "Is there anything in particular you're referring to?" he asked, a smile twitching on his lips. Sara looked down toward her food in order to hide her disappointment. Then she heard him admit quietly, "I did." Sara looked up and smiled. "I did love waking up next to you."

Sara looked down to hide her discomfort at his words. She wasn't used to being spoken to like that, especially coming from Grissom. She felt his hand on her cheek as it gently coaxed her head up and watched as he smiled a little hesitantly.

"Sara," he said with a small shrug, "you know…I'm not very good at this and it's going to take some getting used to but…I'm willing if…?" he shrugged again, unable to articulate his feelings into words.

"Me too," she cut in, lifting her hand to her cheek and cradling his.

"Yeah?"

Sara stared deeply into his bright eyes and nodded. "Yeah."

Twenty minutes and two full stomachs later, hand in hand they got back to Sara's car. "Leave your car here," Grissom said. "It's silly to take both. I'll drop you off tonight before shift. It's on the way."

"Are you sure you want to risk having me in your house for that long?"

Grissom scanned his gaze around the car lot and then tugged her by the hand a little closer. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said quietly and with a small wink. Taking charge, he took the keys from her hand, opened her trunk and removed her knapsack and swim bag from it.

_Ask him, Sara. Or it'll eat up at you until you do. _

Sara took a breath. "What about Charlotte?" she asked.

He frowned in surprise, his smile stiffening. "What about Charlotte?"

Sara shrugged, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. She looked down toward her feet. "Greg said that-"

Understanding seemed to dawn on Grissom and he tilted her head up and shook his head, smiling. "You shouldn't believe everything Greg says, Sara." His tone was one of slight amusement. When Sara didn't meet his gaze, he added, "Would you like to meet her?"

Sara looked up, confusion written all over her face. "Meet her?"

Grissom shrugged, grinning innocently as though it was no bid deal. "Sure. We could do that now, if you'd like."

_I told you,_ Sara told her inner voice. _Charlotte__ was nothing to worry about. _

"I'd love to," she said, a happy smile playing on her lips.

* * *

A/N: Gosh, ten chapters already...and I said _short _and the grin is still there. Is this too lovey-dovey? Is it time for a little angst? Okay, angst isn't the right word. I was clear, I said "No angst." I was thinking more…along the lines of a little _drama_. All this grinning is beginning to hurt and make me uncomfortable. So, what do you think?


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I was going to wait until the weekend to post because I'm supposed to be writing my other story (which I am doing, don't fret!) but...you've been very good to me and there doesn't seem to be much GSR to read at the moment. I hope you continue to enjoy.

* * *

"You seem a bit edgy," Grissom said as he quietly slid inside the Mercedes besides Sara.

"Do I?" Grissom smiled, nodding slightly and Sara grudgingly lifted a shoulder, turning on the seat to face him. She took a breath and his hand in hers, and nervously played with his fingers. "I'm surprised you're not more so yourself."

"What, edgy?" he asked. To which she nodded. "Is this too much for you?"

"What?"

"This," he said, lifting their joined hands. "The hand holding, the kissing…I-I've not done this before and I'm-"

"Me neither."

He looked down toward their hands, stilling her fingers. "I'm not so good at all that stuff, you know, dating."

She lowered her head until she made eye contact. "Me neither," she said. "That's not what's troubling me. This…is just perfect. No, I can't help thinking…" she paused, her gaze flicking to the car lot around them.

"That someone might see us?" he prompted. _And cut the dream short,_ he almost added.

"Aren't you?"

"I guess." He shrugged. "We could always say we bumped into each other."

His comment raised a giggle. "Literally?"

Grissom conceded the point with a crooked smile. "We'll just have to make sure that when we do go out we go somewhere no one will see us."

Sara's brow furrowed. "What do you suggest? Dark cinemas? Some secluded place out in the desert?"

"My place?" he chanced.

A smile tugged at Sara's lips. "Or mine?"

"To be honest, Sara I haven't thought that far ahead. I'm still getting used to the idea that this is simply happening."

"Wondering how we got here?"

"Oh, yeah," he conceded softly. "I can't promise we'll be like other, more conventional couples. For one, the job's going to get in the way. Then, there'll be no romantic dinners on the Desert Princess or in fancy restaurants, no trips to the shops walking hand in hand or-"

"I know. And that's fine. I expect that. I do. There can be no other way. It's-" Sara stopped short, suddenly averting her eyes to her lap.

"What is it, Sara?" he asked with concern. "What were you going to say?"

She shrugged and met his gaze. "It's more than I could ever wish for," she said quietly. "I keep thinking my bubble's going to burst at any moment or that my alarm clock's going to ring or worse, my cell, and it'll be dispatch cutting this beautiful dream short."

Grissom nodded, lapsing into a thoughtful silence. "I can promise you this isn't a dream, Sara." He shifted and leaned his right arm over the passenger seat's headrest, stroking the tip of his fingers to her hair. "I don't want the bubble to burst either but we've got to be realistic." Sara nodded, her face looking serious. "But I want us to try to make this work…despite the obstacles."

"And there are many."

"And there are many. Work _is_ going to complicate things."

"Not if we don't let it," she argued. "We just need to keep our professional and personal lives separate." His smile was doubtful. "We could have rules," she added uncertainly.

_We could work with rules, _his inner voice said. _We've had stringent rules our whole life._

"Rules?" he asked.

Sara lifted her shoulder in shrug and she smiled mischievously. "Yeah, like…no touching in public, ever."

"Not even accidentally?" Grissom exclaimed. "Like let's say…if we were at a crime scene and I was to pass you my pot of red creeper and my hand unintentionally lingered over yours?"

Smiling, Sara shook her head. "Not even then."

He lifted their joined hands, his face in a pout. "No holding hands?"

Sara shook her head again, her smile widening. "No holding hands."

He pressed a kiss to the tip of her fingers. "No kissing?"

Sara swallowed. "Definitely no kissing."

_I have never desired a woman more than I desire you now,_ he thought, his heart bursting with love.

_Tell her._

Swayed by the intensity of his feelings, he leaned forward a little, his expression turning solemn, the gaze of his darkened blue eyes locking on hers. "Not ever?" he asked in a barely audible whisper.

Sara shook her head, her eyes mirroring his deep yearning. "Not e-"

Grissom surged forward and captured her lips into a searing kiss before she could finish her word. Dropping her hand, he shifted on the seat and took her head into his hands, deepening the kiss. Sara let out a low moan of pleasure and brought her hands up to the back of his head, pulling him closer still, her fingers raking through his curls as she desperately tried to satiate her need for him. When they eventually pulled apart, they were panting and laughing with disbelief.

_God, she makes me feel alive!_ "Come on," he said, grinning. "Let's go."

They had been in the car five minutes when Sara asked, "What made you change your mind?"

He smiled, instinctively knowing what she was referring to, and flicked his gaze from the road to her. "About doing something about _this_?"

Understanding the allusion Sara replied, "Yeah," with a slight purse of her lips.

The question hung between them for a long moment while Grissom negotiated a tricky left turn before he replied, "Honestly? I don't know." His lips twisted into a small smile as he watched the road. "Okay, well, maybe I do know but I'm not telling you."

"You're not going to tell me?" she asked with surprise.

"Nope." He threw her a cheeky wink. "I think some secrets are best kept private."

Sara sulkily pursed her face at him, her gaze narrowed but she didn't probe further.

Grissom was making the turn off Sahara toward his street when she asked hesitantly, "We're…going back to your house?"

"Sure," he said, keeping his eyes on the road. Then he turned a cheeky grin toward her. "You said you wanted to meet Charlotte," he shrugged easily, "She lives with me."

Sara did a double take, her eyes widening in fright. "She what?"

Returning his eyes on the road, he repeated softly, "She lives with me."

"I thought you said-Stop the car!" she instructed unexpectedly.

Grissom's head whipped round, his smile vanishing. "What?"

"You heard me. Stop the car now!"

_What's happening?_ his inner voice asked, panicking._ What have you done? _

_I haven't done anything, _Grissom lamented helplessly.

_You must have said something!_

_I didn't!_

There was a pause. _Maybe that's the problem._

"This is a mistake," Sara was now saying. "I should never have trusted you. I should have listened to _her_."

"Her?" Grissom was looking more and more befuddled. "You're not making any sense, Sara. Listened to whom?"

"Stop the car now," Sara repeated firmly. "What do you take me for?" she continued in a mumble, turning away from him to hide her emotion. "I'm no other woman. I'm no bit on the side. Been there, done that, got the damn T-shirt."

Grissom's face was a picture of disbelief. "Sara, you got this all wrong!"

"I can't believe you're asking me to enter into some kind of…twisted ménage-à-trois. Stop the car! Stop it now and let me out!"

Grissom slammed on the brakes, jerking them both forward abruptly. "Ménage-à-trois?" he squealed in disbelief. "Jesus Christ, Sara, what do you take me for?"

Sara was struggling to keep her composure. She had her hand on the handle, her shoulders shaking, ready to bolt.

Grissom checked his mirrors and manoeuvred the car to the side of the road. He cut the engine and turned toward her.

_Do something before it's too late,_ his inner voice panicked._ If you let her go she's never coming back. Fix this! Kiss her, goddamnit! Kiss her!_

Grissom kept his cool. "Sara, honey, listen to me," he said in a pleading tone, his hand on her shoulder, coaxing her round. "You got this all wrong."

Sara turned a menacingly dark look on him. "How?" she said. "She called your house phone yesterday. She called your house, HOME, Grissom. Hell, she called you 'Gil'!" She paused, her bosom heaving. "_Gil,_ for goodness sake."

_What the hell is going on?_ "Listen, Sara," he said. "I don't know what you think you know but you totally got the wrong end of the stick. Charlotte _can't_ have called my house yesterday."

"No? And how do you explain her voice on your machine, huh?"

_Tell her, you doofus._ "Sara, Charlotte's… not a woman. She's female all right, but not a woman. And believe me, I do know the difference!"

Sara looked far from convinced. "You're telling me Charlotte's not the voice on your machine?"

Grissom shook a slow head and leaned across to make eye contact. "No, she's not."

But Sara couldn't keep it together any more. She brought her hand to her face as her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably.

_Oh, look what you've done now. You've made her cry._

And yet, something in her behaviour told him it wasn't as straightforward as that. There was no hysteria in her voice, no tears, no… _Hang on a minute! _Grissom thought. _Could she be…?_

"Sara…" he said in a warning tone.

Knowing she was rumbled, Sara immediately stopped the pretence, and burst out into uncontrollable laughter. "I'm sorry," she said, laughing. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist."

Grissom threw her a 'it's not _that _hilarious' look.

She pinched her lips in a futile attempt at stopping laughing. "Secrets are best kept private," she mumbled to herself, mimicking in his tone. "I don't think so."

Gob smacked, Grissom could only gape at her in disbelief. _Oh,_ _this is how it's going to be, huh? Well, two can play that game, Miss Sidle._ Without another word, he turned the key in the ignition, checked his mirrors and pulled out.

"You should be watching the road, not me," Sara said as he stopped at the next intersection.

"I was thinking of the best way to get my own back," he said broodingly. He arched a brow. "Did I detect…a little jealousy, then?"

"Maybe," she reluctantly conceded with a pout. "Just a little. Well, you're not supposed to have a private life, Grissom, are you? It's common knowledge."

"Is that what you think? That I have no life?"

"Well, no. I-I didn't say that. But you know…when do you get the time?"

Grissom snorted in disbelief. "I make time, Sara," he said a little disparagingly before letting out a sigh.

Sobered up, Sara gravely nodded her head. "I'm sorry. I-I'm just…a little on edge about all this _us_. It's a big deal for me."

"It's a big deal for me too, honey. Believe me." Sara nodded her head, looking down to her lap. "Sara," Grissom said, reaching out a hand to hers. "There hasn't been a woman in my life for years. Not like that anyway. And certainly not one that matters." He sighed, lifting his hand to her face, and gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. "I'm sure I can make a little time for us in my busy schedule."

The playful pout was back. "Just a little?"

Grissom smiled. "I can't believe we've had our first argument already. It's been what?" He checked his watch. "Two hours?"

"We've argued before," Sara countered.

"As supervisor/subordinate, sure. But not as boyfriend/girlfriend."

"Is that what we are?" Sara asked, gasping. "Boyfriend, girlfriend?"

Grissom shrugged. "Is…that what you'd like us to be?"

Sara turned her head and smiled, her eyes shining with delighted pleasure and adoration. She didn't need to reply, the answer was plain to see. "Come on," she said, "let's go home."

Grissom was pulling into his drive when he said, "Come on ask me. I can tell you're dying to."

"Ask you what?" she asked.

"Her name," Grissom said over-dramatically. "The woman on the phone yesterday. The one who calls me…_Gil_."

Sara pursed her lips in mock-annoyance. "And your house, _home_?"

Grissom nodded, conceding the point. "And my house, home." Sara remained silent. "Her name's Pammie," he said quietly. "And the rumours flying around the lab _are_ correct. I _am_ seeing her Sunday night but she doesn't live here with me. And no, she's not my girlfriend...or a horse," he added, pinching his lips in amusement.

"You heard?"

He nodded. "I appreciate you speaking up for me, though." His expression turned serious. "Pammie's a fellow racer and I know she'd love to meet you."

"She knows about me?"

Grissom nodded. "Yep. She knows _all_ about you."

Sara lit up like a proverbial Christmas tree, his words visibly hitting the right spot.

_Good work, Gilly!_ his inner voice congratulated. _You did good. Now, kiss her._

Grissom did just that. And as they parted, he said, "Remind me to have a quiet word with Greg, will you?"

Sara smiled mischievously. "No. Don't. Let him think you have a girlfriend. It might work to our advantage and could be a lot of fun."


	12. Chapter 12

"Jesus Christ," Sara said in a loud gasp as she stared at his…_thing._

_Holy crap!_ her inner voice echoed in a shriek. _It's gigantic!_

Her eyes wide with amazement, she looked up to Grissom's face. "It's huge!"

His smile was a little smug. "She _is_ quite big," he admitted modestly.

"And long!"

Grissom nodded his head and looked down with evident pride. "She measures eleven inches from the tip, here," he said pointing, "to there."

Sara inched her head closer to take a better look. "It's hairy too," she remarked with admiration. "Is it hard?"

"Well," he swayed his head in ambivalence, "I'd say more soft than hard."

Sara pursed her face, nodding to his words, and brought a hesitant hand nearer.

"Do you hand to touch her?" he asked excitedly.

_Hell, no, girl! We ain't touching that thing. _

Sara shook her head briskly, jerking her hand away. "I dunno."

"She's totally harmless, you know."

Sara couldn't take her eyes off Charlotte. "Still."

"This specimen's the biggest one kept in captivity in the States," Grissom stated rather proudly.

Sara observed the speciman with narrowed eyes and opened her hand, spreading her fingers wide. "It's as big as my hand."

"She, Sara, she's a _she_, a female Theraphosa Blondi and she is _just_ perfect for your hand."

Sara looked up, meeting his gaze before smiling mischievously at his innuendo. "I've never touched one before, let alone held one," she enthused. "What do you feed her?"

"Mice and small rodents but she's been known to snatch small birds from their nests."

_Yeah, right. Pull the other one. _Sara narrowed her gaze at him in disbelief. "Really," she said, her voice laced with scepticism.

Grissom shrugged easily in a 'don't believe me if you want but I'm telling the truth' kind of way. "She prefers insects and other arthropods though," he continued enthusiastically. "And females of that specie are known to eat their males when they are mating hence the life expectancy of a male is five times shorter than that of a female."

Sara's brow was arched as she eyed the tarantula with renewed admiration. "Ah."

"She's a Goliath Birdeater," Grissom added by way of explanation.

Sara nodded. "It figures."

"Would you like to hold her?" he asked softly.

Sara moved back from the tank with alarm. "Me?"

"Why not?" His smile was soft, tender and inviting.

Sara considered his offer for a moment before asking, "She won't try any funny business or anything, will she?"

Grissom opened the tank and cupped the tarantula into his big hands, bringing it out. "She's very gentle, I promise you, and totally harmless. You won't even feel her."

Sara stared intently into Grissom's eyes and when she saw the truth of his words in them, slowly nodded her head at him. "All right, I trust you," she said, smiling shyly and opening out her hands to the tarantula.

Grissom returned the loving smile and opened out his hands so that Charlotte could scuttle into Sara's.

"You're right," she said with surprise, her face lit up with enchantment. "I can hardly feel her. She doesn't bite?"

"No," Grissom replied simply. "Well, they can do but only if they feel threatened. But their bite is comparable to that of wasps." He paused. "You're good with her, Sara; she likes you."

Sensing his eyes on her face, Sara looked round and returned his tender smile before quickly averting her eyes to the tarantula which was crawling her way up her arm.

"And she is hungry," he added. "Do you want to feed her?"

Sara looked around the room, catching sight of a small tank full of live crickets and grasshoppers, locusts and other creepy-crawlies, and turned wide eyes toward Grissom.

"They're her favourite," he said as if it was no bid deal at all. "Put her back in her tank and I'll show you."

Sara gently lowered the spider back into the tank and watched as Grissom cupped a grasshopper in his hands.

Passing it to Sara, he said, "Just put it in."

Sara stared at him in hesitation and then fed the grasshopper to the spider. "Whatever happened to your cockroach?" she asked, turning toward him. "The one you used to race. A Madagascan hissing cockroach, was it?"

Watching with pleasure Sara feed the tarantula, Grissom pursed his face in slight exasperation. "She ate him," he replied with exaggerated sadness.

Sara pinched her lips together to stifle her laughter at his discomfited face.

"I must have…" he shrugged, heaving a great sigh, "…accidentally left Charlotte's lid slightly ajar; the little fellow never stood a chance."

"It's tragic," said Sara, a giggle escaping.

"It took me a week to find her," he continued nonplussed by her mockery. "She was hiding behind the washing machine."

Sara frowned worriedly at his words and made sure the lid to Charlotte's tank was well and truly secure.

"Anyway," Grissom was now saying, "since he couldn't race anymore, I decided to branch out."

"You race spiders?"

Grissom was looking a little unsure by the tone of Sara's remark. "You find this…weird?"

"A little," Sara replied instinctively, "but I guess it's…very much you."

"What do you mean it's _me_?"

"It's who you are." She smiled warmly. "You race roaches –

"Raced," he amended softly.

"Raced roaches," Sara repeated. "You keep pigs in jars; you eat chocolate-covered…" she let her sentence trail, her eyes broadening as she turned her head toward the tank full of insects and small arthropods. "Do you two share snacks?"

Grissom chuckled softly. "No," he replied categorically.

She pursed her face as she considered whether to believe him or not, all the while watching as Charlotte hungrily scuttled around the grasshopper. "How does the whole spider racing work?" she asked. "Don't they scuttle all over the place?"

"They use their spider sense to get to the finishing line," Grissom deadpanned.

Sara playfully narrowed her gaze at him but didn't take the bait and continued to watch as the tarantula encircled the grasshopper. "Does her size make her go faster or slower?"

"She's a free spirit, Sara, just like you," Grissom said in a long sigh. "I don't seem to be able to train her."

Sara's face lit up at his words. "Maybe you should just let her run free," she said, lifting her gaze to him and smiling cheekily when she found him watching her.

Grissom's grin was mischievous. "Just not around the house, hey?"

_I didn't like his look, _Sara's inner voice whispered._ Just then when he said that._

_Me neither, _she thought as she returned her gaze on the tarantula.

"Come on, Sara," Grissom was now saying, taking her by the hand, "let's leave her alone. She doesn't like an audience when she eats."

"You want something to drink…or eat?" he asked as they got to the kitchen.

"No, thanks," Sara replied, stifling a yawn. "I'm still full from breakfast."

He nodded. "Me too. You tired?" he then asked. Sara couldn't help noticing the slight hesitation in his voice and the worry in his eyes. "You ready for bed?"

_This is it, Sara. He's made a move._

Sara smiled, hiding her nervousness. "I'm okay. You?"

_Coward!_

"I'm okay," he replied. "You want to watch a little television?"

"Sure."

They moved to the lounge and Grissom switched the TV on, remarking. "You never played your next move."

Sara followed his gaze to the chess game, and smiled. "I left in kind of a hurry."

"Pammie's call?"

Sara didn't reply, her mind already trying to figure out a way to get her queen out of check.

"What do you want to watch?" she heard him say.

"I don't mind. You pick."

She heard his quick channel surfing and then an excited, "They're showing _North by Northwest_. I love this movie!"

"I've never seen it," Sara replied distractedly.

"Never?"

Sara played her next move and straightened herself up, frowning with confusion at his words.

"You've never watched _North by Northwest_?" he repeated with disbelief. To which, Sara shook her head. "Well, we're going to remedy that," he said enthusiastically, "and I've got the perfect accompaniment."

He jumped to his feet and disappeared down the steps to the kitchen. While he was gone, Sara made herself as comfortable as she could on the wretched couch and was soon so completely engrossed in the film that she didn't hear him return. Grissom plopped himself in front of her and cleared his throat, causing her to slowly look up toward him.

"Shift over," he told her, nodding toward the couch.

Sara moved over, smiling as she caught sight of his goodies. "What are these?" she asked.

"What do they look like?" he quipped back uncertainly as he sat down next to her.

Sara pursed her face good-humouredly. "Popsicles?" she hazarded.

He held one out to her. "Tell me what you think; they're not your usual made-with-water types. These are more ice-cream on a stick. I've been perfecting the recipe for some time," he stated casually.

"You made these?" Sara asked with astonishment.

"Huh-huh," he mumbled as he casually began sucking on his popsicle, his eyes fixed on the television screen.

_Giant bugs and popsicles,_ Sara mused, looking at her treat with a little distrust. _Just when I thought I knew everything about him._

"So?" he asked a moment later. "You don't like it?"

Sara hesitantly brought the popsicle to her mouth and darted a quick tongue over the top, her face pursing favourably at the taste. _Not bad,_ she thought with surprise as she licked at it a little more. And then a little more, until she sucked at it with enthusiasm. "It's unlike anything I've ever tasted," she mused. "It's a rather unusual flavour for an ice-cream."

Visibly tensing at her words, Grissom turned a fearful gaze toward her. "You don't have to eat it, you know…if you don't like it."

"No. I like it. It's just…different," she said contemplatively as she broke a small corner off with her teeth and chomped on it.

Grissom nodded, wincing slightly in hesitation. "Please, don't freak out-"

_Giant bugs and popsicles!_ Sara's head shot round toward him as realisation dawned. "Grissom!" she cried out, swallowing painfully before punching him on the arm. "I can't believe I fell for that! Which one of the poor defenceless creatures did you murder to make these, huh?" She repressed a shiver at the thought.

"Locustella Naevia," he replied, his grin wide and pleasurable. "It's good though, isn't it?"

Sara grudgingly agreed with a shrug of the shoulder and dipped the popsicle back into her mouth, returning her attention on the movie before inconspicuously shuffling a little closer on the couch toward him. She felt him stretch his right arm over the back of the couch and slowly ease it down over her shoulder. Sara couldn't help the wide grin on her face anymore that the feeling of sheer pleasure that suddenly coursed through her or the quickening of her heartbeat. She wriggled herself down into the couch, burrowing herself deeper into the crook of his arm.

Chancing a backward look toward him, she found him watching her, a tender smile on his lips, and she couldn't help the sigh of pleasure that escaped her mouth. _You see, this couch isn't so bad after all,_ she told her inner voice as she returned his warm smile and reached up to kiss him on the corner of the mouth.

"Thank you, Grissom," she said, looking into his eyes, "for sharing this with me."

He winked and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of her nose, averting his gaze back to the TV screen. "I've just thought of our first rule," he mused as she resettled herself into his arms to watch the film.

"Yeah?" she replied distractedly. "What's that?"

"I want you to call me Gil, Sara. No more Grissom."

Sara turned a questioning face toward him. "No more Grissom?" she repeated with surprise. He shook his head. "Griss?"

"No more Griss either. Not when we're alone together like this, at home. It makes me feel like your boss and-" He sighed the rest of his sentence off.

Sara nodded her understanding. "You sure?" His nod was all the reassurance she needed. She smiled, turning away. "Gil…" she tried. "Gil. I like it."

"Me too, honey," he murmured, his lips on her hair. "Me too."

* * *

A/N: Just in case you didn't know, _North by Northwest _is a 1959 American suspense film directed by Alfred Hitchcock, starring Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint, and sadly isn't mine.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: God, this chapter took me a loooong time to put together, longer than the twelve previous chapters put together did, and I'm sorry if it drags on a little, and I wasn't sure about the best time to post it but as we all live in different time zones, it doesn't really matter. I hope I haven't messed up their first time together.

This small _thing_ is also a wedding gift…of sorts. Sorry Dhila, but this is for you, not that I expect you'll be reading it today (I've worked out it's already Sunday in Indonesia)…or tomorrow, or anytime soon. Have a wonderful day (just in case you happen to check your inbox) and félicitations!

_

* * *

_

_North by Northwest _was reaching its climax; Eve's grip slipping as she desperately clung to the steep mountainside.

Sara half-lay in Grissom's arms, completely riveted by the action on the screen, her face lit up with wonderment one minute, or darkening with fear the next. Grissom too was riveted, but had stopped watching the movie a long time ago, so taken he was with watching _Sara_.

Suddenly she took a sharp intake of breath, and turned fearful eyes toward him_. _"You're not watching the film?" she remarked, her hand still gripping the leg of his pants for dear life.

_When I have you in my arms? _Grissom tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear. "No."

Sara's expression changed and she shifted on the couch, turning fully toward him. "Something's on your mind? The mummy case? You want to talk about it?"

_Talk shop?_ He smiled. "No."

"No, as in nothing's on your mind or you don't want to talk about it."

Grissom shrugged a lazy shoulder and sighed. "I was just…trying to figure out the best way to be comfortable on this thing."

A smile immediately twisted Sara's lips. "You won't. I tried every conceivable position." His brow arched suggestively. "I tried them all," she insisted. "It's hopeless, just about everything's wrong about this damn couch."

"Everything?" he repeated musingly, his fingers distractingly tracing patterns on her shoulder.

A frown of confusion creased her brow. "Why?"

"Why, what?" he repeated distractedly.

"Why are you worrying about the couch being uncomfortable? Aren't you…we…" she shrugged the rest of the sentence off hesitantly.

His smile turned loving, and he shook his head. "No."

Sara's mouth curved downward. "No?"

"No," he stated quietly. "I'm going to sleep on the couch."

Sara reached for the remote and stabbed a sharp finger on the on/off switch. "You don't want to?" she probed anxiously. She didn't give him time to reply before saying, "You're having second thoughts, aren't you?"

_Come clean. It's not the end of the world, _his inner voice suggested.

"Nooo," he replied with fervour, stroking his hand to her face, "of course not. I just…want for us to take things slow, you know? Not rush into things."

Sara's bottom lip came out. "You're having me on, right? For the stunt I pulled earlier in the car?"

_Tell her. She won't mind. Or better still, pop to the shops. _

_I don't want to leave her. She might not be here when I come back. _

Grissom looked down toward her hand and watching as her fingers lightly brushed up and down his thigh, felt himself go hard. Swallowing, he placed his hand on top of hers, stilling its movement while he mustered enough courage to tell her what a dimwit he was.

Misinterpreting his silence for nervousness, Sara got up from the couch before he had time to explain, pulling him gently to his feet by the hand. "Come on," she said. "I'm sure we can come to some arrangement and share the bed."

Grissom stayed where he was. "No," he said softly, hoping she wouldn't take offence at his reluctance.

Sara watched him intently for a moment and then brought a trembling hand to his chest. Slowly, she undid the top button of his shirt before slipping her hand in the opening. "No?" she repeated in a whisper when he gasped at her touch.

Grissom closed his eyes, swallowing the tightness in his throat. "No," he murmured, the word catching in his throat.

Another button popped open under Sara's soft pressure revealing a soft mound of silver curls. She threaded her fingers through them, her face moving closer to his face, and began stroking his chest. "No?" she asked again in a barely audible murmur.

It took all his resolve to just turn his face away. "Sara," he began in a very low and reluctant tone, "I can't – we can't-"

She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "Why, Gil?" she asked again, her lips so close to his cheek that he could feel the vibration of her words on his skin.

The sound of her voice speaking his given name so lovingly, the feel of her finger on his lips, the warmth of her breath on his skin sent shivers down his spine and he had to concentrate all his senses just to keep breathing.

"I-I want to," she whispered, the plain admission of her desire for him yet another blow to his already weak defences. "And I know _you_ want to."

"Oh, God, Sara, of course I want to," he gasped, pressing ardent lips to her mouth, trapping her fingers between their lips, before pulling himself away. "I want nothing more than to make love to you…" he lowered his eyes, suddenly shy at the words he was professing. When he looked up again, his eyes were full of disappointment. "But I never thought in a million years that…"

Sara launched forward and shut him up with a kiss that wore down the last one of his defences. Half-lying, half-sitting on top of him on the couch, she took his head in her hands, urgently deepening the kiss until he had no choice but to surrender.

Gasping and moaning, Grissom's lips parted welcomingly, his tongue a perfect match for hers, moist and cool and tasting of ice-cream, and he slid further down the couch, easing her down on top of him. Sara's hands roamed all over the back of his head, pulling and stroking, and then to his face, his shoulders, his chest and finally down to the waistband of his pants. Never breaking the kiss, she lifted herself up off him, and was urgently undoing the buckle of his belt when Grissom caught himself and pulled back, his hands flying down to her wrists.

"Please, Sara, stop," he commanded in a weak, hoarse whisper. He made eye contact and smiled, shrugging a weak apology. "I haven't got any protection. I'm sorry."

Sara's face softened as she understood his dilemma and she put trembling fingers over his mouth. "Sshh," she whispered before slowly tracing the outline of his mouth, causing him to close his eyes in a small moan. "It's okay," she said in a giggle, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. "I'm…on the pill." To his slightly surprised look, she added, "it helps with the hormones and monthly cycle."

She lifted her shoulder in a small, hesitant shrug and without another word got up from the couch. She reached for his hand and tugged him to his feet and then to his bedroom, only stopping on the way to take the kitchen phone off the hook.

Grissom pulled the curtains shut, leaving a thin halo of sunlight to shine through and turned round a little hesitantly to find Sara standing there, right behind him, waiting and smiling, and perfectly mirroring his shy uncertainty.

She touched his eyes. "Don't be scared," she said in a soft whisper, reading the worry in his gaze, "you could never disappoint me."

Nodding, Grissom smiled and closing the gap between them, reached out a hand to brush her hair back from her eyes so he could watch the myriad of emotions shining in them. Sara bit her lower lip, closing her eyes as she took a shuddering breath in. His fingers hovered over her eyes, not quite making contact as they traced their outline; his breathing was pained, each breath a soft gasp that must have tingled Sara's face because she took in another quivering breath, her mouth parting instinctively at his touch.

Featherlike fingers stroked down the side of her face, to her chin and neck before gliding back up to her parted lips. He brushed his index finger over the curve of her mouth, gasping as Sara darted the tip of her tongue out to his finger, his eyes closing at the overwhelming sensation her simple gesture had caused. He waited a moment for his racing heart to quieten and lowered soft lips to her cheek, kissing, sucking and snaking slow, hungry kisses down her jaw line, to the vast expanse of her neck, down to her shoulder, his kissing becoming more and more urgent the further down he went.

He pulled back slightly, and stared at her, watching as her chest heaved with each ragged breath, amazed that he was the cause of such desire. Sara opened her eyes and smiled before raising both arms over her head, making her yearning clear as she offered herself to him. Her top rode up in the front, exposing the thinnest line of pale skin, and Grissom felt himself stop breathing. He bent down a little and slipped his hands under her top, impatiently pulling it upward revealing the black gossamer lace covering her breasts while Sara deftly unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground next to her top.

"Oh, God, Sara, you're so beautiful."

His hands found her breasts, palming their soft flesh and then he brought his lips to them, tentative at first and then showing his true yearning as he kneeled down before her. Sara's body arched toward him and she pressed herself into him, groaning and moaning softly the more and more he kissed and sucked and licked, gorging himself with her. His mouth kissed down over the swell of her stomach before stopping at the waistband of her pants. He looked up, his eyes wide with desire and adoration, and when he saw the exact same emotion mirrored in her gaze, he slowly pulled her pants down to her ankles.

Standing only in her panties, Sara disengaged her feet and cupped his face in her hands to pull him back upright. She finished undoing the buttons of his shirt while he hurriedly divested himself of the rest of his clothes, freeing his aching self in a long moan of relief. Sara stifled his moan, taking his mouth in a burning kiss, one hand pulling his head closer, the other sliding downward to stroke his throbbing penis. Grissom's ensuing groan was low, pain-filled but so very full of ecstasy that for a moment he worried her touch would take him over the edge too soon.

He pulled back from her, and explained with one simple look why he was gently easing her hand off his erection. "Do you trust me," he then asked hoarsely.

Sara smiled shyly. "You know I do. I trust you with my life everyday."

He brought her hand to his mouth. "Yes, but…do you trust me with your heart?"

The breath caught in Sara's throat, and her love and yearning for him spilling out of every pore she slowly nodded her head in reply.

His blue eyes dark with excitement he roughly cupped Sara's ass and lifted her up onto him. She wrapped her long legs around his midriff, her arms around his neck, gasping at the feel of his erection as he held her close. The tip of his penis pounding tantalisingly close to her throbbing core and his eyes boring into hers ardently, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss and carried her to the bed before lowering her, or rather dropping her onto the mattress, and toppling over on top of her. Quickly propping himself up on his forearms, he stared at her, his lips curled into a crooked, apologetic smile when he saw the gentle mockery in her eyes.

"I'm not the youngest boyfriend you could ever have bagged yourself," he whispered self-consciously and with evident regret.

Sara stroked her fingers to his beard. "What you lack in youth you make up for in enthusiasm," she murmured back, her eyes crinkling with mischief. The sceptic purse of his face made her laugh and she shuffled herself up fully onto the bed, beckoning him to her with a cheeky finger.

Grissom slowly ran his gaze the length of her body and moved on top of her to continue with his tender exploration.

"Make love to me," she murmured into his ear, grinding herself against his erection, her voice so low that Grissom thought he had dreamt her words.

He hooked two fingers two her panties and pulled them down her legs all the way to her ankles before stopping abruptly as he caught sight of the small tattoo there. He leaned down to study the flower, brushing a soft thumb over it, and then his lips, the small gasp of pleasure she took all the encouragement he needed. Sara's whole body shuddered with excitement and she buried herself deeper into the mattress, her hands gripping at the sheets tightly, and her legs crisping with abandon.

Grissom took his time snaking his way back up the length of her body, his confidence fuelled by the waves of moans of pleasure drifting to him, her body at once quivering and writhing under his onslaught. Each of his senses heightened with consuming desire, he explored every expanse of her skin, every dip and curve, every mole and freckle, committing them to memory until she could take no more and her soft moans intensified to loud, soulful groans that repeatedly begged him to enter her. Certain that succumbing to her pleas would be his undoing, Grissom held off until her crescendo told him she was close to reaching orgasm.

At bursting point himself, he rose up on his forearms, their mouth meeting as he lined up with her while she opened her legs around him, his torrid erection grinding tantalisingly close to her opening. He felt her gasp into his mouth, her legs spreading further apart as she arched herself toward him. Grissom stroked his hand down to her sex and gently guided his erection inside her, gasping as her warm wetness enveloped him.

One hand propping him up, the other at once roaming on her breasts, her stomach, around her neck and face, his lips always on her skin he thrust and thrust deeper into her, as they finally made one. When their moaning matched perfectly, their movement in perfect sync, they sought each other's eyes and watched the emotions reflected in them.

Suddenly, Sara yelped, her eyes closing. Her head arched back she bit her lower lip to stop herself from screaming and spreading his fingers around Sara's neck Grissom pounded one last time until he felt her sharp repeated tightening around his penis, which in turn triggered his long, long-awaited release.

Panting, sweaty and exhausted, Grissom collapsed on top of her and pressed small soft disbelieving kisses all over her face and it's only when he kissed her eyes that he tasted her tears. Rolling off her in alarm, he watched as a tear roll down the side of her face. "Oh, God, did I hurt you?"

Sara's eyes filled with more tears and she shook her head softly, smiling with so much love that he had to pinch his lips to stop his own tears from falling.

_Tell her you love her,_ his inner voice whispered.

_It's too soon._

Grissom smiled all the love and adoration he felt for her, and after brushing off her tears lay down beside her. Sara rolled onto her side, nestled her head over his heart, her arm draping possessively over his chest and soon succumbed, falling asleep in minutes, naked and exhausted in his arms.

_She's going to make you a happy man,_ his inner voice whispered.

_I know, and I will try my hardest to make her happy too._

With that thought and a contented smile on his face, he listened to the slow, peaceful way she breathed, and closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep, pressed one last kiss on the top of her head, whispering words of undying love to her.

* * *

A/N: A review at this point in the story will be greatly appreciated. Thank you.


	14. Chapter 14

Sara woke all warm and tingling as a dot of sunshine touched her nose. Or was it the tip of Grissom's finger?

"Good morning, sleepy head," he said softly as her eyes fluttered open.

She stretched languidly, her mouth widening in a yawn and dreamily smiled up at him. "Good morning to you too," she said. "You've been awake long?"

Propped up on one elbow, a hungry smile on his face, Grissom lifted a small shoulder in reply and ran a teasing finger down her arm. His eyes were dark with longing. "I think I'm still asleep - fast asleep in the middle of a beautiful dream with a beautiful woman."

Sara's fire immediately reignited at his words, her grin wide and pleasurable as she shuffled into a sitting position, the sheets pooling by her waist. "I never took you for a romantic," she said, her brow cocking playfully, unaware of what her sitting up was doing to Grissom's body.

Grissom's eyes widened, his grin following suit and he launched himself at her, causing her to yelp in surprise and fall back onto the bed. "What if I am," he laughed, as he began to tickle her devilishly on the sides.

Sara's giggle filled the room as he continued to tease her mercilessly. Then, their eyes met, their laughter dying suddenly and Grissom swallowed, slowly lowering his face to hers.

"No, Gil," she murmured weakly, pinned as she was under his weight, and reading him like an open book. "We can't."

His voice was hoarse with desire. "I say we can."

A slow smile twisted Sara's lips. "Gil, you're going to be late."

"Shift doesn't start for a good two hours yet. And besides," he added, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "I'm the boss. I'm allowed to be late _and_ you gotta do what I say."

"I was wondering how long it'd take you to pull the boss card on me."

Grissom pressed his lips to one corner of her mouth, shutting her up, and then brushed them very gently across her lips to kiss the other side.

Sara felt her resolve vanish. "All right," she conceded in a pant as he attacked the tender spot on her neck just below her left ear, the flames in the pit of her stomach once more burning high. "Just…make it…quick." The last word died in his mouth.

Forty-five minutes later and fully sated, Sara was stepping into the bath when she heard his faint call to her. "I'm in the tub," she replied cheerily as visions of the two of them sharing a bath filled her mind. "Come and sponge my back."

"Sara!" The door burst open and a frazzled-looking Grissom stormed in.

Sara froze, her second leg hovering in mid-air, all the hairs on her body immediately stood on end.

_Surely, not again,_ her inner voice whispered.

_Ssshhh, _Sara whispered back.

Sara's expression shifted when she noticed the worried look he cast at her. "What's wrong?" she asked with alarm.

Grissom opened and checked the interior of the bathroom closet, and got down on his hands and knees as he hurriedly checked behind every bottle of cleaning products. Then he scuttled toward the toilet, anxiously checking all around the cistern.

Sara was growing more and more concerned at his panic. "Grissom, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's Grissom now, is it?" he said somewhat impatiently. He paused, took a quick breath and then sighed. Glancing up over his shoulder, he said, "Charlotte's done a runner."

Sara scanned a frantic gaze all around the bath tub. "She what?"

"She's done a runner – legged it – pulled a fast one."

Sara could only smile wryly at the aptness of his phrasing. "I understand the phrase, Grissom," she said, giving a sharp shake of the shower curtain. "I'm just curious about the how."

"You and me both, honey," Grissom said, standing back up. He paused. "She's not here."

Satisfied that he was speaking the truth and that the bathroom was spider-free, Sara casually lowered herself into the water. "What's her favourite place to hide?" she asked calmly. "You said that last time you found her behind the washing-machine. Have you checked there?"

"Of course, I checked there," Grissom replied edgily. "It's the first place I checked."

"Maybe she just doesn't want to race," Sara pondered musingly as she lifted a leg out of the water and ran a lazy hand over it.

Sara's words gave Grissom pause and he froze, turning incredulous eyes toward her. "Did you…did you deliberately let her out?"

Sara snapped her head round. "No," she denied vehemently. "Of course not."

"I wouldn't put it past you," he muttered short-temperedly.

His tetchiness _was_ amusing and Sara pinched her lips to stop the smile from escaping. "It's not the end of the world, Gil. She'll turn up."

Grissom scoffed in disbelief. "You're finding this funny, aren't you? We've been training for month for this race, Sara. Months!"

Sara was thinking of a clever retort when he suddenly said, "What's that smell?" before running out of the bathroom.

Sara gave a puzzled sniff of the air round her. "Burned tomato sauce," she called back to him with puzzlement.

_I'd recognise that smell anywhere,_ Sara thought recalling the many burned dinner-for-one she'd cooked – _Reheated,_ her inner voice prompted – _all right, _Sara granted, reheated in the past.

Wondering what he was up to, she squirted a dollop of shower gel over a wash cloth and quickly got washed. When she got to the kitchen, the radio was on low and Grissom was at the stove, sweetly humming to himself. She sneaked up on him from behind and encircled his waist, making him jump with surprise.

"I thought you said there was no food in the house and there you are cooking again," she said, pressing her face to the top of his shoulder and smelling the air. "If I didn't know you better I'd think you were trying to fatten me up." She frowned and pulled back, asking in the same breath, "Do you think I'm too thin?"

"Huh?"

"You think I'm too thin?" she asked again, pulling his robe tighter around herself as she sized herself up. "We had breakfast in bed and now this!"

He turned round, looking a picture of bewilderment. "What? No. No. Sara, I think you're…just perfect the way you are."

The smile he cast her then was so endearingly shy that Sara felt herself weaken at the knees. "What are you making?" she asked, peering over his shoulder at the simmering pans.

Looking dismayed, he shook his head and returned his attention to the stove. "I'm cooking us lunch – for later."

"You've made enough to feed a small army."

"I'll be hungry. It's all that exercise."

"What exercise?" she teased, feigning confusion. "You haven't even taken up swimming yet!" He pursed his face in mock-irritation and she gave his butt a playful squeeze. "Nice trunks," she said, mimicking the woman from the pool and exploding in a fit of giggles.

Unwilling to rise at the bait, Grissom carefully lifted the wooden spoon out of the pan and cupping his other hand under it, brought it to Sara's lips. "Tell me what you think," he said.

Sobering up, she met his gaze and tasted the sauce. "It's good," she enthused with a little surprise.

He brought the spoon to his lips before kissing his lips together a few times in a tasting fashion. "It's missing some oregano but I don't have any."

"You mean you cooked this from scratch? It's not out of a jar?"

Grissom studied Sara for a moment with a perplexed eye. "You're messing with me, right?"

Sara's shrug was playful. "You know I'm going to get used to this, right?"

"It's what I'm counting on." He shrugged and returned his attention to the simmering sauce. "If I can impress you with my culinary talents then…"

"You don't need to," she whispered, once more wrapping her arms around his waist. "You impressed me a long time ago."

He looked back over his shoulder and their eyes met. They shared a smile, and then a kiss, and then Grissom turned round inside Sara's arms and they kissed some more. Sara grudgingly pulled back, shaking her head sternly at him.

Grissom's smile was knowing and mischievous but he didn't insist.

"You…you found Charlotte?" she then asked.

He sighed a little sadly and turned back to the stove. "Not yet." He spooned a pasta shell out of the pan, tasted it and then turned off the heat. "We're going to need to go grocery shopping soon."

Sara's brow rose. "We?"

Grissom made puppy-eyes at her, his mouth in a pout as he gave her a slow nod of the head in reply. "We've run out of Twinky Cakes."

"We?"

His smile was soft and tender. "I gave you my last one yesterday."

To Sara, this was as good a declaration of love as hearing the words themselves. Her face lit up with a blissful grin, her eyes basking in all the love he was shrouding her in.

_Tell him._

_I can't. I still can't believe this is real._

_Sara, tell him._

She almost did but instead she smacked her lips to his and leaving to get dressed said, "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

* * *

"You look like the cat that got the cream," Warrick remarked casually as he poured himself some of Greg's coffee.

Sara grinned, winking at him mischievously. "Look who's talking," she said.

"Don't try to deflect the attention on to me, girl," Warrick retorted in a chuckle. "I think you've been bitten too, and bad."

Images of a free roaming Charlotte filled Sara's mind. "Bitten by what?" she deadpanned.

Nick burst into a hearty laugh, his head shaking with disbelief. "Leave her alone," he told Warrick mildly, "and tell us about your night on the Desert Princess."

Glad for Nick's deflection, Sara piped in, "Yeah lover boy, how was your _date_ with the lovely Tina?"

Warrick's eyebrows waggled teasingly. "Wouldn't you two love-starved puppies like to know, huh?"

Nick and Sara exchanged looks and burst out laughing. "I couldn't care less," Sara said, bringing her cup to her lips.

"Me neither," Nick echoed.

"They had this grand piano," Warrick began earnestly, a wide grin on his face, causing both Sara and Nick to snigger. "So, you know...I sat down on it and played her this lovely tune of mine." His eyes took a distant turn, the grin on his lips beatific. "It was truly magical. It was-"

"That's enough already," Nick cut in abruptly. "You scored, right?"

"Oh, yeah, my friend, I did," Warrick replied wistfully.

_Me too,_ Sara echoed in her mind, her inward sigh long and wistful. _Me too._

Out of the blue, Greg burst into the break room. "I'm not late, am I?" he panted, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

The other three CSI's shared a cautious look.

"What are you doing here?" Nick asked although the answer to that question was clear to everyone present.

"Grissom called you in on your night off?" Sara asked, feeling rather proud at the way she'd managed to make her disbelief sound _so_ genuine.

"What? When you and him are like that?" Warrick asked, crossing his index and middle finger.

Greg pulled a face at Warrick and then shrugged as though it wasn't a big deal. "It would seem the big man couldn't do without me tonight. What could I say?"

"No?" Sara prompted.

"Poor Greggo," Nick said over-dramatically, turning toward the others. "Mia's called in sick."

"He's got to make up his mind," Greg piped up, as he filled his cup with coffee. "Either I'm in the field or in the lab. But I can't be everywhere at once." He smelled the air round him suspiciously and then brought the cup to his nose to take a whiff. "Hang on a minute," he said. "This is not the usual piss water they serve here. I'd recognise this Kona bean coffee aroma anywhere. Who's broken into my locker?"

The other three CSI's gazes averted downward simultaneously, Catherine's perfectly-timed return to the break room saving them from replying. "Okay guys," she said pulling off a pair of latex gloves, "I've put it back. He won't know the differ-" She stopped short when she noticed her colleagues' wide-eyed and over-exaggerated shakes of the head. Immediately, she turned a bright smile toward Greg. "Can't keep away from the place Greg, can you?"

"Put what back?" he asked brusquely, ignoring Catherine's small jibe.

"More rank blood Grissom snuck in our fridge," Catherine fired back nonplussed, waving the gloves in his face. She suppressed a shiver for good effect. "Gross!"

"Any signs of the bugman?" Warrick asked, swiftly changing tack. "It's not like him to be late for assignments."

Grissom breezed into the room at that precise moment. "Okay," he said keeping his gaze firmly averted to the slips in his hand, "Nick, Warrick, trick roll at the four aces that turned sour."

Warrick snatched the slip out of Grissom's hand. "I'm driving," he told Nick.

"Catherine," Grissom continued, "you carry on with your DB. Doc's just called; he's got the autopsy results for you." Catherine nodded silently. "Sara, you're with me," he said, looking up just long enough for Sara to see the small curl of his lips.

Sara smiled back instinctively at his words but caught herself almost straightaway, quickly glancing toward her colleagues hoping no one had noticed.

"We got a scene in Summerlin," Grissom continued, he too eyeing his audience warily. "Give me five minutes to grab my kit and I meet you in the lot."

"Great," she said as Grissom walked out, faking a lack of enthusiasm she was far from feeling. Inside, her heart was giving gentle flutters like a butterfly's gossamer wings.

"Not even a word of thanks," Greg muttered under his breath, jarring her out of her daydream.

"Oh," Catherine lamented over-dramatically. "Poor baby. _We_ still love you, even if Daddy doesn't." She threw Greg a cheeky wink, flicked her hair back over her shoulder and breezed out of the break-room.

Already at the door, Warrick nodded his head at Nick who taking his cue got to his feet and gave Sara a friendly tap on the shoulder.

"Stay safe, sweetie," he bid her with a fond smile.

"You too."

* * *

A/N: I'm still aiming for a fluffy smile on your faces; that's the whole point of the story. Let me know and I'll keep going. Have a nice weekend!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: A _little_ angst in this chapter; sadly it comes with being a CSI. But don't fret no one gets harmed in any way, shape or form…I wanted to show their relationship as more than a bundle of fluff. More fluffiness in the next chapter, I promise. Enjoy.

* * *

When, kit in hand, Grissom stepped out into the car lot, Sara was already leaning against the Denali's driver's side, keys in hand. She was reading a memo, looking serious and business-like and he let out an inward sigh of relief. This juggling of the boyfriend and boss relationships was going to take some getting used to. Maybe he should have waited a little longer before pairing them up on a case together, and taken one of the boys instead.

_Don't worry,_ his inner voice told him. _It's going to be fine._

Still, it was with a smile on his face and a spring in his step that he made his way toward the car.

"I'm driving," Sara said jingling the keys in her hand and beaming up at him.

"I don't think so. Pass them over."

Sara's brow was cocked but her smile stayed on. "What? Just like that?"

Grissom's lips pursed in amusement and he silently held his hand out for the keys.

"Are you pulling rank on me again?"

Grissom sighed, conceding defeat. "All right," he said. "You drive. I'll drive on the way back."

Sara's smile was smug. "That's what I thought," she said beeping the car unlocked.

_You got to watch her,_ his inner voice warned, _or she'll have you wrapped around her little finger in no time. _

Grissom shrugged at the voice in his head and walked round to the passenger side. _I think it's already far too late for that._

The drive to Summerlin was fast but otherwise uneventful, Grissom spending most of it with his ear glued to the phone. On reaching the crime scene, Sara pulled up behind a couple of police cruisers, killed the engine and turned toward him.

"This feels weird to you?" she asked.

"A little," he replied. He tried a reassuring smile. "We'll be fine. Just stick to the rules."

Sara's smile was cheeky. "Oh, I know I can…but can you?"

Grissom tapped his finger to the end of her nose. "Work is work, Sara. Home is play." He paused, his serious gaze boring into hers as he waited for a response.

Sara sobered up quickly, her giddiness once more making way to professionalism. "Sorry, you're right."

"Come on, we got work to do." He sighed. "Let's go."

"Yes, Sir."

Grissom rolled his eyes at her in good humour. He grabbed his kit from the back seat and headed straight for Vega, Sara following hot on his heels.

"What have you got?" he asked the detective without preamble.

Vega greeted both CSI's with a curt nod of the head and then flipped back a few pages in his note book. "Twenty-five-year-old female with fatal stab wounds to the chest. We believe her to be one Marie Steward of this address but it remains to be confirmed. She was already dead when we got here. The neighbour heard her screams and called it in. Coroner's office's been notified and we're still waiting."

Grissom nodded. "Anything else?"

"No signs of forced entry but signs of struggle all over the house. And judging by what we saw, drugs are involved."

"Where's the victim?" Sara asked, just ahead of Grissom.

"In the kitchen," Vega replied. "It's a mess in there. The first unit went in, checked for life and came straight back out the same way."

_Female victim stabbed in the kitchen, _his inner voice surmised. _Reminds you of something?_

_I know. _

"Okay," Grissom told Vega in a sigh. Then he glanced toward Sara, gauging her reaction.

"Oh, and Grissom?" Vega called back as he walked away. "I thought you'd want to know. We fancy the missing husband for this. He's got priors for domestic violence and drug abuse."

Grissom nodded bleakly. "You cleared the scene?" he asked the detective.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Sara-"

"I'm working the outside," she said anticipating his next words. "I'm all over it."

Grissom smiled his gratefulness and watched as she turned away, her gaze following the beam of her torchlight as she scanned up and down the front of the house. Without another word, he slipped some booties over his shoes and carefully made his way in to the kitchen. David Phillips arrived soon afterwards.

He had been inside the house fifteen minutes maximum, just long enough for him to form a preliminary image of what had taken place and start documenting the scene when all the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

"LVPD, drop your weapon and put your hands up in the air!" he heard Sara shout through the wall. "DROP THE KNIFE NOW!"

"Oh, dear God," he gasped, exchanging terrified looks with the assistant coroner. His heart suddenly pounding in his ears Grissom sprung to his feet and tossed his camera on top of his kit.

"Was…that Sara's voice?" Phillips asked with fear.

"Suspect's armed and still on the scene," Sara was now saying through her radio. "I need back up in the back yard NOW."

Rushing toward the door Grissom reached for his side weapon but realised with dread that yet again he'd left it behind. "David, stay here with the body," he told Phillips, "I'm going to go check on Sara." Then he ran to the front of the house. "Metcalf! Didn't you hear that?"

"Calm down, Grissom. Peters and Vega have got it covered."

The look Grissom threw Metcalf was hard and cold. "You watch over David and the evidence," he shouted taking off in a sprint towards the back of the house, his desire to make sure Sara was fine much greater than that of keeping his crime scene secure.

By the time he got to the back of the house, the suspect was disarmed and splayed on the ground. Sara had her knee pressed to his back and as Vega took over from her she stood up, shaky hands fumbling to put her gun back in its holster.

"Sara, you okay?" he asked breathlessly, unable to disguise the fear in his voice.

He saw her weak nod of the head as she doubled over, but she didn't reply. His hands twitched nervously by his sides, and he wanted nothing more than to grab her, pull her into his arms and comfort her, protect her. She had to have been shaken by that. He wanted to be there for her; be her pillar but he knew he couldn't. This was unchartered territory for him. He was confused, torn between having to act as her boss, as Grissom and needing to be there for her as her boyfriend, Gil.

"Good Job, Sidle," Vega said, patting a heavy hand on Sara's shoulder as he roughly hauled the cuffed suspect to his feet.

Still bent over and catching her breath, Sara acknowledged Vega's praise with a silent nod of the head. Then, she moved toward the bloody knife the suspect had dropped and reaching inside her vest's pocket, bagged it to be processed.

At that moment in time, Grissom didn't see Sara's act as anything to be proud of, as anything heroic. Despite his best effort to keep a lid on his emotions, he couldn't help his frustration, anguish and anger at what had just occurred, at what _could_ have occurred spill over.

"You said the scene was clear!" he shouted at Vega. "You put Sara in danger and it's only dumb luck that this punk didn't make her his second victim!" Grissom didn't bother to listen to Vega's retort before angrily rounding on Sara. "And you!" he barked. "Sara, what were you thinking? What you just did was… was...it was stupid!" He closed his eyes, taking a much needed breath. "Arresting suspects is not your job!" he added but the anger had left him, replaced with fear and desperation that she could have got hurt. "That's _his_ job," he said pointing a sharp finger toward a retreating Vega. "You just collect evidence."

The dark look Sara threw him shut him up and he turned away unable to look at the disappointment in her eyes. "I wasn't chasing after the suspect," she said sadly. "The suspect found me. What else was I to do? Let him go?"

Grissom sighed and was bringing his hand up to cup her face when she jerked it off. "I shouldn't have paired us up," he said quietly. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry. I'm going to call Catherine. She can take over from you."

"What?" Sara's face was a picture of disbelief and she shook her head angrily. "No, Grissom."

"Sara…please, take the Denali. Go back to the lab. I-"

"Grissom, I'm fine," she snapped. "Stop mothering me." She took a calming breath and repeated a little more calmly, "I'm fine. Don't fuss, please. I can finish this."

He sighed and brought a weary hand to his forehead. "I'm sorry, Sara-"

"It's not your fault. It wasn't your fault. It could have happened to any of the guys or to you for that matter."

"But it didn't. It happened to you and there was nothing I could do to protect you."

"Grissom, I don't need protecting. That before with the suspect was nothing. Really, it's no big deal. It comes with the job." Murder weapon in hand, she moved away and picked up her kit. "Let's just finish here and get back to the lab."

Grissom and Sara remained at the scene for another two hours. They worked silently and efficiently alongside each other, Sara acting like nothing had happened and Grissom constantly watching her, one eye on the job, the other making sure she was okay. When they had finished and David had taken the body back to the morgue, he drove them back to the lab. He kept his eyes on the road and Sara kept hers steadfast on the passing scenery. Once or twice, he'd tried reaching out to her but she would just move her hand away and he was at a complete loss as to what to do.

"To tell you the truth," Sara said unexpectedly as though she was continuing aloud a conversation she'd been having in her head, "it was all moving a little fast, wasn't it?" She turned on the seat but didn't make eye contact. "We tried to make up for years of…of…_whatever_ it is between you and me, in one day and with the job, we were never going to make it work, were we?"

Grissom opened his mouth to respond but Sara never paused for breath and continued with her rant.

_Stop the car,_ his inner voice kept repeating in his head. _Take her in your arms. She's overtalking again; she's shaken by what's happened despite her claims to the contrary._

_I don't know. I think she's talking a lot of sense._

_Pull over and tell her you're sorry for overreacting._

_Is that what I did?_

_You as good as called her stupid. So, yeah, I'd say you overreacted. She did a good job tonight and you didn't even congratulate her on it._

This gave Grissom pause and when he returned his attention on Sara, she had stopped talking and was waiting for a reply he wasn't able to give her. He shook his head forlornly and pulled in to CSI.

"You mind logging this in on your own?" she said wearily, her hand already on the door handle. "I'm going to take five and then continue with my arson case."

His hand moved to her arm. "Sara…"

"I'm okay," she said, looking round and meeting his gaze briefly. She brushed his hand off her arm. "I just need a little time on my own."

He sighed. "Okay," he said at last. "Just come and find me at the end of shift. I'll drive us home."

Sara didn't reply; she just gave a small nod of the head and made her way out of the car, opening the back door to get her kit. Grissom took a moment to gather his thoughts and was following her out when he saw Nick and Warrick jog toward her.

"We heard what you did, girl," Warrick said as he took her field case out of her hand and wrapped a proud arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah! Way to go, sweetie," Nick piped up, wrapping his arm around Sara's other shoulder.

Grissom watched the trio enter the main building, a pang of _something_ he couldn't quite put his finger on twisting his heart. It wasn't jealousy for he knew how fond the guys were of each other and how much part of the same family they considered themselves.

He sighed, gathered the evidence they had collected and followed his team inside the building. As he walked past the locker room he heard Sara briefly regale the details of the arrest, her tone weary and self-effacing. She wasn't boasting; she merely considered she had done her job and what the rest of them would have done if faced with a similar situation. She was right of course.

The rest of the night was slow and non-eventful and after dispatching the various pieces of evidence from the case to be processed, he kept himself to himself in his office pretending to be busy with paperwork.

That is until he sensed her eyes on him.

He looked up with the kind of crooked, apologetic smile that generally absolved him of all wrongdoing in her eyes and found her leaning against the door jamb a wistful look on her face. His smile died on his lips. "You're ready to go home?"

Remaining at the threshold she let out a breath.

He was already on his feet. "I'm sorry about what happened before," he said quickly, trying in vain to dissipate his foreboding. "I know I overreacted-"

"Yeah, you did."

He shrugged helplessly. "I couldn't help it. When I heard you shouting I just…," he shook his head at his lack of words to describe what he had felt. "I let my emotions, my feelings for you take over."

"I know," she said in a barely audible whisper. She glanced toward the corridor and took a few steps in. "It's not like it's not happened before, Grissom. We've all been there, under threat; it's par for the course." She paused and when he didn't comment said, "I got a call from my super. My apartment's ready."

His heart sank at the words. He swallowed and looked down, nodding his head at her words.

"It's probably better this way, in fact it's definitely better this way, less complicated," she said.

_Tell her it doesn't have to be complicated. Don't let her leave like this._

"Sure," he said finally, lifting a small shoulder. "Let me drive you to your place."

"No. Please, Grissom-"

"Sara, honey, please don't shut me out." He moved round his desk and closed the door. "I understand your need for space, I truly do and I respect that but…" he paused with a sigh and cupped her cheek, tilting her head up until he could smile into her eyes.

_Kiss her._

_I can't. Not here. It's not appropriate._

"…I made a mistake."

Sara's mouth twisted, a small smile escaping. "You broke the rules," she said at last. "Twice."

Grissom felt his heart restart. "I did?"

"You did."

He paused, nodding his head. "We're okay?"

She shrugged her reply. "I hope so. I just need a little time to myself – work some things through."

"Okay," he said at last, smiling. "Okay. You take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere."


	16. Chapter 16

"Hey," Greg said bounding into the break room at the end of shift, snapping Sara out of her thoughts. "I heard what happened at the scene earlier; you're a legend around the lab." His grin was wide and he looked suitably impressed. When Sara didn't respond, he pulled a chair across from her. "You okay?"

Sara gave him the standard reply. "Sure."

Greg seemed to ponder her words. "He's giving you a hard time about it?"

Knowing who 'he' was straightaway, Sara gave a sulky shrug of the shoulder in reply and distractedly stabbed a pasta shape with her fork.

"He needs to review his priorities, man," Greg said. "The man's got issues."

Sara's sigh was long. "Leave it, Greg. I'm not in the mood."

Greg registered a look of surprise. "Let's go out for breakfast. You and me, Frank's. My treat."

Sara shook her head briskly. "I'm…already having my breakfast. Besides, I'm not that hungry. I'm just going to go home and curl up in bed."

"I'm surprised you're not out celebrating already. It's not everyday CSI gets one over on PD."

"Yeah, well, I don't recommend it."

Greg pursed his face musingly and pinched a pasta twist out of the plastic container. "Hmm, that's nice. Home cooked. Missing a little oregano." He frowned suspiciously. "You made this?"

Sara's mind jumped back to the previous evening when Grissom had cooked the pasta and to how light and loving the mood had been then. She refocused her gaze on her food and shook her head sadly in reply to his question.

"You're only picking at it. Can I have it?"

"No, Greg," Sara said impatiently, her chair scraping back noisily as she got to her feet. "It's _mine_. Keep your hands off it."

She caught Greg's look of confusion and thought about apologising but couldn't be bothered. He'd only ask more questions and she really wasn't in the mood to be quizzed. Tears of frustration stinging the back of her eyes, she bid him a quick 'Sleep well' and with one last look down the corridor toward Grissom's office dragged herself to her car. She wondered about going for a swim but the sudden vision of Grissom in Speedos made her heart ache even more.

_You could always go home,_ her inner voice soothed quietly.

Sara gave a stubborn shake of the head in reply. _I don't want to go home. _She took a right turn out of CSI and hit the open road. She drove fast her eyes, fixed on the bright tarmac rolling in front of her, until her vision got so blurred that she had to stop at the roadside.

_Running away won't sort anything out, Sara,_ her inner voice whispered with caution.

_I'm not running away, _Sara lamented sadly._ I'm…I'm working through my frustrations._

_Is that what you're doing?_

Eventually feeling a little calmer and more in control, Sara put the car in gear and drove home but even then remained at the wheel of her car for a moment, debating whether to go up to an empty and cold apartment, to an empty and cold bed or just swallow her pride and turn back.

_You know you want to._

_Yeah. And that's the problem._

Shaking her head, she grabbed her bags out of the trunk of the Prius and without a backward glance made her way upstairs.

The apartment was cold and dark and empty. A lingering smell of damp hit her nostrils as soon as she stepped in and Sara automatically opened all the windows and let some much needed air in. Feeling grubby, she tossed her bags onto her bed, headed straight to the bathroom to turn the shower taps on. Her mouth curled downward into a sad wistful smile as she remembered Grissom's much more lavish bathroom with a proper tub in it, and a pang of sadness twisted her heart.

_Go back to him,_ her inner voice said._ Tell him how you feel. Talk it through with him._

Unwilling to listen to the voice of reason, Sara quickly shed her clothes, dropping them in a heap on the floor, took her wash stuff out of her knapsack and stepped in the shower. As the water pounded her skin, the 'arrest' replayed in her mind but she didn't regret her actions. Her training had kicked in and she had done what any good law-enforcement officer in her situation would have done. Why couldn't Grissom see that? Why couldn't he have been proud of her?

Sara stepped out of the shower, blindly feeling on the rail for a towel. Headed back to her bedroom, she quickly dried herself and earnestly pulled back the bedcovers. Stifling a yawn, she sat down on the edge of the bed for her night time routine and pulled her knapsack toward her. She was rummaging inside for her body lotion when she felt _her_.

Her heart literally skipped a beat, all thoughts of her present heartache vanishing and she closed her eyes with dread. "Oh, my God! No, no, no," she cried, tears immediately pooling in her eyes. "Oh, please, don't be dead."

Shaky hands opened the bag wider, carefully yet hurriedly emptying it of its content, and scooped out the limp arachnid. She pinched her lips in anguish and brought Charlotte up to her face, studying her closely for signs of life, and gave her a gentle, fearful prod. The tarantula slowly stretched one leg, curling it around Sara's little finger. Sara's face immediately filled with incredible relief and joy and she blew out a loud relieved breath.

"Thank God, you're alive; you're okay!" she exclaimed. "What would I have told him, huh? He'd have been devastated!" Sara dried her eyes. "How did you get yourself in there anyway, huh? You know, he's been frantic with worry about you!" A thought suddenly occurred and her face lit up with a smile, her face pursing inquisitively. "Did he put you in here so we'd become friends? Is this a ploy to get me to come home?"

Sara opened out her hands to let the tarantula scuttle onto the bed for much needed freedom. But Charlotte didn't move. Not a flicker; not a single leg twitch and instinctively Sara knew something was very wrong with her. She brought her up to her eye line again and searched for signs of injury. "Are you hurt?" she asked her with concern. "You've been in the trunk of my car all night…without any food or water." She gently prodded Charlotte in her side and the spider reflexively wriggled her legs. "And I don't have anything here for you."

With no hesitation, Sara gently placed the tarantula on the bed and quickly got dressed. She found a shoebox she could transport Charlotte back to Grissom's in and used a pen to punch some holes in. She drove like a lunatic, one eye on the road, the other on the shoebox strapped on the passenger seat. All throughout, she had Grissom's numbers on speed dial but didn't get a reply.

His car wasn't in the drive and her heart sank. She sighed, wondering whether she ought to have driven to the lab instead. He was bound to still be there, wasn't he? She used her key to let herself in, tapped the code to disable the alarm and rushed to the laundry room. She gently lifted Charlotte out of the shoebox into her tank and watched on tenterhooks. She waited and waited and when nothing was happening after a minute she tapped the glass a few times, but still the tarantula remained motionless.

"Oh, please, don't die on me. He would never forgive me."

_Maybe you should take her to the vet,_ her inner voice suggested.

Frantic with worry and tears in her eyes, Sara caught a poor defenceless cricket from the other tank and fed it to Charlotte. She still didn't bat an eyelid.

_Call a vet._

Sara nodded and was searching through drawers for the spider's paperwork and the vet's details when she heard Grissom's harried call to her.

"I'm in the laundry room," she shouted back with panic.

He joined her in seconds. "Are you okay?" he said with relief, immediately pulling her in a tight hug. "I went all over the place looking for you. First I got cornered by a pissed off Greg who gave me a piece of his mind. And then I went to your apartment and when you weren't there, I went to the pool." Sara gently pushed him away and lifted watery eyes to him. His face fell and he took her face in his hands. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just didn't think. I-"

"Charlotte's sick," she cut in, roughly wiping her eyes. "She hid in my knapsack. I didn't know. I didn't see her. She spent the night in the trunk of the car, Gil. She-she's not moving; she's not eating-"

Grissom turned incredulous eyes from Sara to the tank and then back to Sara, the love he felt for her spilling uncontrollably out of him. "You found her and brought her back?" he asked in a whisper. He smiled and pressed his lips to the tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Did you put the cricket in there for her too?"

Sara nodded numbly and turned toward the tank. "But look, she's not responding. She's barely acknowledged it's there. She didn't even try to bite me."

She felt his gentle hand coax her face round toward his and he smiled softly. "Honey, that's because she never felt threatened. Oh, Sara, she's not sick."

More tears fell. "She's not?"

He shook his head softly and wiped two gentle thumbs over her tears. "No. That's a defence mechanism. She just shut down for a while. She'll be better in a few hours now that she's back in her habitat."

"Are you sure?"

He rested his forehead against hers and smiled, nodding. "She's done it before, many times."

Sara read the truth of his words in his eyes and let out a breath of relief. "But what about the race, tonight?"

"Oh, sweetheart," he pressed a few kisses to her lips, "I don't care about the race – not really. I can't believe you did this for her – for me. I promise you, she's absolutely fine."

She smiled, nodding her understanding. "I was so worried. I-"

"Ssshhh," he soothed, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her out. "Come on, I'll go make us both a strong coffee."

"No. I'm okay," she said as they got to the kitchen. "Or else I won't be able to sleep."

Grissom stiffened a little and let out a small breath. "Are you…going back to your place?" He must have sensed her hesitation because he added quickly, "I want you to stay…but only if you want to. I'll understand if…"

Sara smiled and covered his mouth with her hand. "I'll stay."

"You will?"

She nodded. "I want to." His smile couldn't have been happier. "We need to talk; establish more ground rules." She shrugged a small shoulder and looked away. "Besides, I realised when I was driving home that I didn't want to be alone in my apartment. I wanted to be here with you."

His smile was shy. "I want to wake up next to you every day. Here or at your place I don't mind but I want to be with you."

"I haven't brought anything with me."

"I can lend you one of my T-shirts. Actually, why don't you keep a change of clothes here? I could make some space…" he shrugged the rest of his sentence hesitantly. "Am I moving too fast?"

Sara's smile was warm. "No." Their hands found each other and she tugged him toward the bedroom. "Come on, let's go to bed. I'm beat."

Comfortable in each other's presence, they got undressed silently and slipped into bed. Sara wore an old UCLA T-shirt of his and him his customary PJ bottoms. Grissom let out a loud content breath and pulled her closer to him, her body forming a perfect arch against his. His hand weaved its way underneath her T-shirt, his fingers brushing against her skin and coming to a rest over the small swell of her stomach.

Sara placed her hand on top of his and squeezed it warmly as she let her eyes drift shut, feeling safe and secure curled up in his big, strong arms. She listened to his measured heartbeat, ready for sleep to envelop her so she could dream his words of love again.

"I'm sorry," she heard him murmur after a moment, his warm breath tickling the back of her neck. "We'll make it work, I promise."

She brought their joined hands up to her face and snuggled up against them. "I know."

He pressed his lips to her shoulder blade, adding quietly, "I don't think I remembered to mention how proud I am of what you did today at the scene."

His comment caught her off guard. "You are?"

He nodded softly, the gentle rubbing of his beard against her skin sending shivers down her spine. "Despite what I said at the time, what you did today was incredibly brave."

Sara turned round in his embrace so she could look directly into his eyes. "Thank you. It means a lot to me that you think that." Her lips twisted into a shy smile. "You know that you totally blew the whole thing out of proportion, don't you? If it had been Nick or Warrick or even Catherine there pointing their gun at a suspect, you wouldn't have batted an eyelid."

He conceded the point with a nod of the head, his lips curling into an apologetic smile. "I know."

"And you know that faced with the same situation again I'd do the exact same thing, right?"

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just that when I heard you shout I-I panicked. I got scared-"

"That's only natural."

"No, Sara. _I_ got scared. It wasn't Grissom the boss that reacted; it was me, the man. I lost control. I-" he let out a small breath, frustrated that he wasn't able to articulate his thoughts more eloquently.

When he let his guard down, like he was doing now, she could read him like an open book and her heart filled to bursting point with all the emotion and love exuding from him. "You don't have to find the words, Gil," she said her words catching in her throat. "I know." She reached over and brushed her lips to his. "Let's just put what happened down to experience and turn the page."

"Turn the page?" he repeated quietly, his gaze kissing hers. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," she replied. "What happened tonight's not the norm but you got to know I was never in danger. Okay, he had a knife but I had a gun. I would never, never," she repeated meaningfully, looking straight into his eyes, "deliberately put myself in danger, you got to believe that."

"I do."

Her smile was loving, her reply a murmur. "Good." She stifled a yawn, her eyelids drooping heavy with sleep. "Now, I just want to fall asleep in your arms and to the sound of your heartbeat. Do you think we could do that?"

"It would be my greatest pleasure."

Sara smiled, her eyes drifting shut as she succumbed and she felt his lips press one last kiss to the top of her head, his whispered words of undying love a sweet lullaby to her ears.

* * *

A/N: To use a cliché, reviews make me happy, so please leave one. I'm thinking a couple more chapters...they've still got to say their I love you's, haven't they?


	17. Chapter 17

Sara woke all warm and tingling as a dot of sunshine touched her nose. She stretched languorously, opened her eyes and turned. The wide smile died instantly replaced with her customary puzzled frown. His side of the bed was empty but for a grey rectangular box on top of his pillow. Sara propped herself up on an elbow, looked all around her for signs of her lover and picked up the box, shaking it.

"Gil?" she called.

Nothing.

The smell of fresh coffee tickled her nostrils and she smiled in anticipation. _Breakfast in bed?_ she wondered giddily. _Oh, my god, I am going to get used to this! _

When after five minutes of lazy snoozing he still hadn't returned Sara picked up the box and jumped out of bed, following her nose to the kitchen. Her face quickly pursed with surprise and confusion when she found the kitchen empty and the rest of house totally silent.

And nothing was cooking either.

_Maybe work called him in? _her inner voice suggested.

_It's his night off._

_Maybe he's popped out for a treat?_

"Gil?" she called again a little hesitantly, scanning the kitchen counter for a note.

"I'm in here," came the quiet reply.

_I should have known,_ Sara thought with a smile as she made her way the laundry room. She stopped short at the threshold, her ears pricking up at what she heard him say, her features twisting into a playful pout.

"You played your part well," he was telling Charlotte in a quiet whisper. "But you took it one step too far. Next time stick to the plan, all right?"

Sara's face was a picture of disbelief but she recovered quickly. "How is she?" she asked, casually leaning her head on the door jamb.

Grissom looked round with a start and smiled, his gaze brushing down her body with an appreciative facial shrug. He beckoned her in with a nod of his head and returned his attention to the spider. "She's good. I think I've worked out how she managed to get out of the tank though."

That Sara needed to hear.

Her brow half-way up her forehead, she put down the gift on the worktop and joined his side. "Oh? And _how_ did she manage to get out of the tank?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his bare midriff and kissing him good morning on the shoulder. He was so soft, so warm, and so cuddly. And so hers. She let out a long contented breath. "And…before you reply, remember that one should not build a relationship on lies and deceit."

She felt more than heard his sigh. "You know?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Huh-huh," she said leaning the side of her face against his back and hugging him tight. "I guess we're even now, right?"

He turned round in her embrace, dipping his head to make eye contact. "I didn't mean for it to go this far, I promise," he said quietly. "I thought she'd just…join you in the bathroom and you know…scare you a little but she had other ideas."

"I really thought she was sick," Sara replied in a small voice. "And when I couldn't get you on your cell-"

"Why, Sara, she likes you too," he said over-brightly before shrugging and looking suitably penitent. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"Apology accepted," Sara said, reaching up for a kiss.

"Too bad you can't come with us tonight," Grissom said as they broke off, "you might have brought us a little luck."

"You're still going to go?"

He shrugged. "I can't let Pammie down."

"I wouldn't want to cramp your style, anyway. Besides, someone's got to work and catch the bad guys."

Grissom's expression turned serious. "From a distance, huh? Leave the heroics to the others."

Sara nodded distractedly, her gaze veering toward the present lying on the side.

He followed her eyes, saying with surprise, "You didn't open it?"

"I wasn't sure it was for me," Sara purred sweetly in reply. "There wasn't a card and it's not my birthday."

Grissom's smile was knowing. "Open it."

Sara picked up the box. "What is it?" she asked with giddy enthusiasm.

"Open it and you'll know." She eyed him a little suspiciously. "It's nothing…" he shrugged, "…special. I got it you for your last birthday-"

"But that was months ago."

"I was going to give it you then but then I lost my nerve and…time passed and…"

Sara delicately pulled the ribbon and prised the lid off. She unveiled the layers of tissue paper, her eyes widening at what it uncovered. "Oh, Gil, it's beautiful," she enthused as she took out the silk garment from the box. She let it unfold, holding it up in front of her, and gave him a twirl. "I love it!"

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's the nicest thing I've ever been given." Beaming, Sara leapt up, lacing her arms around his neck and deposited a chaste kiss on his mouth. "Thank you."

"The woman said you could change it if-"

She pulled back from his embrace, looking down toward the pale pink robe. "No. It's perfect."

"I thought you could keep it here, you know…permanently, for the times when you decide you want to come over, stay the night or the day. Whenever…" he trailed off dreamily, watching wide-eyed as she quickly whipped her T-shirt off and slipped the robe on her naked body before giving him another gleeful twirl.

"What are you making for breakfast?" she asked unaware of what she was doing to Grissom's poise. "I'm starving,"

He was mesmerised, his eyes glued to the way the fabric clung to her body. "Coffee's all I've got to give you," he said distractedly, his eyes on the décolleté gown. "We're out of everything. In fact it's time we went grocery shopping."

Sara was looking down at her fingers as they brushed along the sash, feeling its silky smoothness. "I thought you said that's the kind of things we could never be seen doing together," she replied absently.

He closed the distance between them. "I've devised a plan."

Sara looked up, her eyebrow rising with interest. "I'm listening."

"It's simple," he said in a hoarse murmur, so close to her now that she was pinned against the worktop in front of Charlotte's tank. "We each have a cart. You push yours and I push mine."

Sara's breath caught and she bit her bottom lip, her eyes closing in anticipation. "And if anyone sees us?" she whispered in a quavering breath.

Soft lips attacked the tender spot below her ear, causing Sara to moan aloud. "We'll just say we bumped into each other."

Sara leaned her head back, granting him access. "Literally," she said in a pleasure-filled gasp.

Panting, Grissom pulled back and stared at her, his eyes dark with consuming desire. Sara peered through lust-filled eyes, her breathing becoming more ragged as she read the yearning in his gaze. Unexpectedly he grabbed her by the hips, lifting her onto the worktop. Ardent lips sought hers hungrily, frantic hands pulling at the robe uncovering Sara's heaving upper body while his thigh parted her legs to make way for him.

"Oh, God, how do you do it?" she asked between two kisses.

"Do what?" he groaned as he feasted on her breast.

"Drive me wild…" she gasped, her reply swallowed in a deep groan of intense pleasure as his hand brushed against the soft curls of her already wet and swollen sex.

Their gazes locked and without exchanging a single word, Grissom lowered Sara down on the floor and tugged her by the hand back to the bedroom, the silk, flowery robe long forgotten, discarded over Charlotte's tank.

And so it was that an hour later, after much love and laughter and a shared shower, Grissom and Sara were each pushing their own carts in separate aisles of Grissom's local Vons store on West Sahara. Grissom had gone off one way while Sara had gone the other. She was browsing in the fresh produce section of the store when her cart got bumped into.

"I'm sorry," she said without looking even though she wasn't at fault.

"Sidle?" she heard a surprised male voice say.

_Shit!_ Her eyes widened with fear, her heart missing a beat and yet she still displayed a cool exterior. "Ecklie," she said, faking a pleasantly-surprised smile, her gaze frantically scanning the aisle ahead for Grissom. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing as you, it would seem," he replied nodding toward her cart, his gaze narrowing suspiciously at the four boxes of Twinky cakes.

"You're not at work?"

His smile was pleasant and warm. "It's Sunday. I don't work Sundays."

"Oh, that's right. You're not a measly CSI anymore."

"Indeed." His smile crisped a little and then softened again. "Listen Sid-Sara, about what happened yesterday…"

_Oh, there we go…_

Sara took a sharp intake of breath as she spied Grissom's head pop op over the display of oranges. He was pushing his cart toward them, looking distracted as he scanned the shelves. He stopped and picked a pineapple and after careful weighing placed it in his cart before moving on. Sara's gaze flicked back toward Ecklie but he had gone off on one of his long monologues Sara hadn't bothered to tune into. She smiled politely, nodding at his words for good measure, her gaze once again flitting over the lab director's shoulder. She gasped inwardly on finding an oblivious Grissom much too close, fully engrossed in choosing melons. At last, he looked up toward her and met her gaze smiling as he waved a small cantaloupe melon at her, his face enquiring.

Sara widened her eyes, in turn shaking and then nodding her head toward Ecklie.

"Are you all right?" she heard Ecklie ask her.

Sara refocused her attention on the lab director and smiled sweetly. "Sorry?"

His smile was just as sweet. "Is there something wrong with your neck?" he asked in a chuckle, waving his hand toward Sara's throat.

_Is he hitting on you?_ Sara's inner voice asked with fearful disbelief.

_He's not._

Sara brought her hand up to her neck. "My neck?" She beamed her brightest smile and did a few rolls of the neck. "Oh! My _neck_…I-I pulled a muscle at the pool yesterday."

"You swim?" Ecklie looked and sounded pleasantly surprised by the news.

_He's hitting on you, girl._

_He's not,_ Sara said with confidence._ Is he?_

"A little," Sara replied evasively to Ecklie's question.

"Sara! Conrad! What a pleasant surprise!" Grissom said over-exaggeratedly as he pulled his cart up alongside theirs. His smile was wide and mischievous. "Fancy bumping into you two here!"

Sara closed her eyes, her head shaking in dismay. "Yeah," she sighed. "Fancy that."

Grissom's eyes widened with mock-sudden understanding. "Are you two…shopping _together_?" he asked, the cheeky grin never leaving his lips.

"What?" Sara squawked. "Ecklie and me? No." She shared a look with the man. "We just bumped into each other."

"Literally," Ecklie added with a soft chuckle.

"See?" Sara said, "Separate carts."

Grissom didn't look convinced. "It's just…for a moment there, you know from a distance, it looked as though you two were…you know?"

"What? Me and him? No," Sara denied vehemently. "It would be against lab policy, wouldn't it, Conrad?" she added turning toward the lab director.

"Indeed," the latter agreed.

"Indeed," Grissom echoed.

Ecklie glanced at his watch. "I was just telling Sara that the sheriff's thinking of putting her forward for a commendation for her bravery."

Sara coughed uneasily. "What?"

Grissom's face lit up and he threw Sara a cheeky wink. "What a great idea! She truly deserves it. What she did was above and beyond the call of duty."

Sara pulled a face at him. "I don't think that will be necessary," she told Ecklie. "I only did my job."

"I would beg to differ, Sara," Ecklie retorted. "And so would the sheriff."

Sara looked toward Grissom, silently pleading with her eyes for an escape.

"Think of the good publicity this is going to bring CSI," Grissom said with a helpless shrug. "It's a great opportunity with the media."

"Exactly," Ecklie agreed.

_Wait till we get home,_ her look told him.

_Oh, I'm so looking forward to what you've got in store for me,_ his look replied back.

"Okay," Ecklie said cutting into their eye stare. "I got places to be so…nice to have seen you, Sara. Grissom."

"Bye, Conrad," Grissom said with a happy wave.

"Shit, that was close," Sara said as soon as Ecklie was out of earshot.

"That was fun," Grissom said. Then his eyes narrowed on Ecklie's retreating back. "Was he…hitting on you?"

Sara followed Ecklie with her eyes as he disappeared around the corner and then looked back at Grissom. She shook her head, looking flabbergasted. "He wasn't, was he?"

Grissom shrugged and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, which Sara brushed off quickly as she checked all around them for prying eyes. "Too bad I've already claimed your heart," he murmured softly in her ear, earning him a playful punch in the arm. "What?" he protested, his eyes laughing with unconcealed happiness.

Sara's smile was as long and contented as her sigh.

"Okay," Grissom then said as he quickly checked the content of his cart, "I'm done. I'm going to go and pay for my shopping and then load it in the car. Then, I'll drive round the block a couple of times to make sure Ecklie's gone and come back to pick you up."

Sara pursed her face at him. "Are you sure all this cloak and dagger stuff is necessary?" Grissom cocked his brow at her. "Okay," she relented with a sigh, "but next time we take_ my_ car and _I _get to drive round the block."

"Deal."


	18. Chapter 18

When Sara got to her locker the next shift, she found the door slightly ajar. She frowned and paused, wondering whether in her haste to leave the lab the previous morning she had forgotten to lock it. On opening the door, her face softened lovingly, her lips curling into the most adoring smile as she noticed the small Twinkie cake delicately posed on top of her ID badge. She closed her eyes overwhelmed for the sudden surge of love that flooded her.

"How did he do that?" she wondered aloud as she picked up the cup cake. "How did he manage to sneak out of the house without me knowing?"

_Maybe he left it there this morning before he left as a peace offering,_ Sara's voice whispered.

"Maybe," Sara mused aloud. She swapped the cake for her ID badge and clipped the latter to her belt loop.

_Or maybe he wasn't the one who put the cake there,_ Sara's voice suggested.

Sara paused and frowned. _Who else could it be? Who else knows about the cakes? _She shook the idea off.

_Think about it,_ the voice insisted.

Sara took out her gun and loaded it with bullets while she pondered the possibilities. _I have no idea._

Sara's inner voice's brow arched.

_Oh. _Sara paused and shook her head briskly, as she unsuccessfully tried to rid herself of the sudden vision of Ecklie chatting her up at the grocery store. _No. It can't be. You must be mistaken. The creep doesn't work on a Sunday._

_Okay. You know best._

_Yeah, I do._ Sara continued with her pre-shift routine and sat on the bench to swap her shoes for her work boots. "But how did he do it?" she asked aloud. "I'm sure the door was locked."

"Do what?" a male voice asked suddenly, startling her slightly.

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Greg. "Huh?"

"How did he do what?" Greg asked again as he opened his locker, a few lockers down from Sara's.

Realising she must have been caught talking to herself again, she shook her head evasively. "I-I was thinking about my arson case."

Greg nodded, rummaged inside his locker for his ID badge, which he then clipped to the waistband of his jeans, and glanced at Sara. She was half-way through tying her boot laces, staring up at him.

"What?" he said bringing a self-conscious hand to his newly coiffed hair. "You don't like it?"

Sara shook herself out of her reverie. "What?"

"My new hair."

Sara stared at Greg's hair for all of two seconds. "It's no different than usual. Messy, unkempt, a little dirty. Grungy," she added a little dismissively, getting up. "No, I was thinking of my case."

"Grungy! But that is so nineties!" Greg shrieked, turning a sulky shoulder at her. "You wouldn't know style if it crossed you in the street," he added with a good-humoured pout before quickly dipping his head to check his reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of his locker door. He reshaped a few spikes with a practised hand. "Carly did it. She said I looked cool."

"Well, it figures." Sara picked up her Twinkie cake and slipped it in her jacket's side pocket.

"Congratulations, by the way," he said enthusiastically, his former chagrin soon forgotten. "I heard Ecklie wants to give you a commendation."

"News travel fast," Sara lamented.

"Can I be your date?"

"My date for what?"

"For the medal ceremony, of course."

Sara let out a sigh and bent down to pick up her shoes, ready to put away. "Even if I was that way inclined, which I'm not, you wouldn't be top of my list. So, sorry," she said looking up winking and smiling. Shoes in hand, she straightened up and watched as Greg picked up the Twinkie cake off the floor, eyed it for a moment too long before handing it back to her.

"Oh, my god!" he screeched. "You're getting some."

A deep strangled sound that was neither a snort nor a cough came out of Sara's core. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're getting it – getting laid – having-"

"I'm familiar with the concept. Thank you, Greg," Sara grit back in a whisper as she glanced toward the door.

"I can _so_ see it," he continued undeterred. "You're just oozing sex appeal, girlfriend."

Sara closed her eyes and turned away, her lips pinched together tightly as she hid her grin.

"Who?" he asked suddenly. "There's no point denying it, I already know."

Sara lifted a casual shoulder in reply.

"Come on, you can tell me. I won't tell a soul."

"You don't know him."

"He _works_ here?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to. Where else do you meet guys, Sara?"

Before Sara could retort with a few chosen words, Nick popped his head round the door. Sara narrowed her gaze menacingly at Greg while she slowly gestured with her hand what she'd do to him if he blabbed.

"Oh, good, Sara, you're here," Nick said, unaware. "Ecklie's here looking for you. Thought I'd give you a heads up so you can make a run for it through the back door."

"Thanks, Nick," Sara said grinning at Greg. The waggle of the eyebrow she added for good measure maybe overkill.

Greg's shake of the head was deliberately slow. "Ecklie? No. I'm not buying it. You and him just don't fit together."

Sara gave him one of Grissom's 'don't believe me if you want but I'm telling the truth' casual shrug of the shoulder.

"No," Greg added as though he was trying to convince himself.

"You're right," Sara said. "Me and him don't fit together but the sex is great."

Greg's face twisted in disgust. "Stop! Sara, stop! You're putting images in my mind I'd rather not have," he whined.

Sara's giggle filled the room. _If only Grissom could have been here to hear all this,_ she thought. "Come on," she then said, patting him on the back jokingly, "you're with me tonight. Mia's back and I'm to teach you all I know."

Greg smiled. "All you know, huh? Bet I could teach you a thing or two of my own," he said.

Sara grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "I've something much better than sex in mind."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked a little hesitantly.

Sara slammed her locker shut. "Get some coveralls and something to cover your hair with, you're going dumpster diving."

Greg ran a hand over his precious hair. "Just me?"

"Yep. We've all been there, at the bottom of the pile. Grin and bear it."

* * *

Sara smiled as she watched Greg disappear inside the bowels of yet another dumper truck, pulled her cell out of her pocket and speed-dialled Grissom's number.

He picked up on the third ring. "Hey," he replied lazily and she could see the smile of pleasure on his face.

"Hey, yourself," Sara said, casually leaning against the side of the truck. "How is it going?"

"The whole thing's running late so we're not on for another hour or so."

"Okay. Listen, the reason I'm calling; I think Greg may be on to us."

"How?"

"Well, we had a very, very weird conversation in the locker room before shift. Surreal even but since then he's been looking at me funny, you know?"

"Just…put him back in his place."

"Oh, I have. I'm doing; don't you worry about that. He's at the bottom of a dumper truck with a metal detector, searching for a kitchen knife as we speak."

"And I take it you're not helping him?"

"Oh, no. I'm…supervising. That's what you call it, isn't it?" she asked mischievously.

She could very well imagine Grissom's purse of the lips and small lift of the shoulder. "One of the few perks of being the boss," he conceded softly.

"Indeed," Sara agreed. "And to Greg, I am boss tonight."

"Indeed."

"So what do I do? How do I put him off our scent?"

"Are you sure you need to?"

"He's smart; he's picking up the clues. He saw the Twinkie cake you left in my locker and he mentioned the pasta again and he said that I ooz-"

"What Twinkie cake?" he cut in. "I haven't been to CSI since I left this morning."

"I assumed you left it there before you-" Sara paused, suddenly struck by a frightful thought. "But if it wasn't you, who was it then?"

"I don't know. How many admirers do you have at the lab, Sara?" he asked with amused disbelief.

Sara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "This just keeps getting worse. What do I do about Greg?"

There was a short silence and then Grissom said, "Make something up – bring him here but discreetly."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I got this covered, babe, don't you worry about a thing," he sang, laughing.

Sara frowned and stared at her phone with amazement. "Okay," she said. "I'll give you a ten-minute warning call when we're ready."

* * *

Amazed at the size of the crowd for such a weird event, Sara scanned her gaze over the room and soon located Grissom, making her way her way to him. "She won?" she asked, flicking her gaze to the cage Grissom was holding.

His shrug was small and sad. "She came fifth."

Sara's smile was loving. "She crossed the line," she pointed out brightly as though it was an achievement in itself. Grissom conceded the point with a slow shake of the head. "Oh, my poor baby," she then said with a pout.

"I'll get over it."

her smile widened and bending down, she blew a kiss toward Charlotte curled up in one corner in her cage. "I wasn't talking about you," she told Grissom.

He shrugged. "I don't get one?" he asked, tapping his cheek with his finger.

Sara checked over her shoulder. "Not here; not now."

Grissom pursed his face, feigning offence.

"Where's Pammie?"

"She's gone to the bathroom. So what did you tell Greg?" he then asked.

"I said you'd called while he was in the shower and that you needed something dropping off urgently; that I'd be a minute and to wait in the car. We're on our way to a scene just off Tropicana anyway, so he didn't question it. I give him five minutes to show his face."

"I don't give him that long. You know what he's like." Movement behind Sara caught Grissom's eye and she turned. "Greg," he called in good-humour, "Over here!"

Greg's eyes were wide with awe. "So that's what it's like inside! Man, this is huge." Then he spied the cage Grissom was holding and his lips curled into a smug, smug smile. "I knew it," he muttered to Sara as an aside. "Nick owes me a twenty." Then turning toward Grissom and bending toward the arachnid, he exclaimed, "So this is Charlotte, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's right," Grissom said as Pammie rejoined his side, slipping a possessive hand through his arm.

"I'm Charlotte," Pammie said beaming up toward Greg and extending her free hand to him. "And you are?"

"Close your mouth," Sara told Greg in a loud whisper, nudging him in the side.

Greg startled out of his daydream and returned Pammie's bright smile. "I'm Greg. Greg-"

"Gil, can we go now?" Pammie purred, feigning disinterest in Greg. "You promised you'd take me to dinner before the show."

Grissom's lips were pinched in amusement and he glanced toward Pammie. "Absolutely, darling."

"Okay," Sara said. "We ought to go anyway."

"Thanks, Sara, for dropping these off," Grissom said, waving a couple of tickets in the air.

"Don't mention it. Charlotte," Sara bid with a nod, "Nice to meet you. Griss, see you tomorrow night."

She was forced to nudge Greg in the side again, causing him to jump. His gaze flicked from Pammie to Sara, then back to Pammie again, who still clung to Grissom possessively and then back to Sara. He shook his head, breathing a long despondent sigh and waved a reluctant goodbye before turning and following Sara out of the building.

"You okay, Greg," Sara asked as they got to the Denali. "You seem awfully quiet all of a sudden."

Greg's head was still shaking with disbelief and Sara stifled her smile. "She was a babe," he said pausing between each word for emphasis. "Wait till I tell Nick. He won't believe it!"

Sara glanced back over her shoulder toward the building and caught Grissom's cheeky smile and wink as he stood by the entrance watching them. She shook her head, a giggle escaping. "Yeah," she replied in a sigh. "She's one lucky bitch."

* * *

The end.

* * *

A/N: I think this is a good place to conclude the story but you may notice that I haven't labelled the story as 'complete'. I wrote a scene weeks ago which I haven't been able to include anywhere in the story so far, which I could have as an epilogue. What do you think?


	19. Epilogue

A/N: Sorry about the delay with this. I really thought I'd have it done before I went away. Anyway, now I've decided to have a multi-chaptered epilogue...is that allowed? Enjoy!

* * *

"So?" Sara asked as she stepped into the room. She pulled the towel off her waist, discarding it on the wooden bench next to Grissom's. "How's your first time?"

His eyes were closed. His body glistened with sweat and he looked relaxed and like he was enjoying the experience. "Hot?" he hazarded with a small smirk.

Sara grinned. "Hot's good." She leaned across and kissed him on the mouth. He flinched back a little in surprise, then relaxed into the kiss. "But is it hot enough?" she murmured as she pulled back, her breath hot on his lips.

"Oh, yeah." He opened one eye a crack, grinned at her and patted the spot next to him. "Plenty hot. Sizzling hot, in fact." He wiped the sweat from his brow and took in a long pleasurable breath. "Come on; come lay down beside me. Let's cleanse our pores together."

Sara burst out in a loud chuckle. "Don't let anyone hear you say that."

"God, Sara, don't let anyone see me in here!"

Sara walked up a couple of steps and lay down on the bench with her head on his lap. He smiled and lifted his hand to trace the contour of her face with a slow finger and she closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch when he started a gentle massage of her temples. "You're good," she said in a soft moan of blissful pleasure after a minute or so.

"You like this?" He sounded surprised.

Sara burrowed her head deeper into his legs until it laid flush against him and felt the last of her tension dissipate. "God, yeah. People pay a lot of money for this."

"Ha. Well, you my dear can have it for free."

Sara's face lit up with a smile but she kept her eyes shut and didn't comment.

"You know," he mused after a moment as he carried on putting gentle pressure over all of Sara's facial pressure points, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." There was a slight hesitation and Sara opened her eyes, frowning, already sitting up. He pushed her back down onto his lap. "Stay," he commanded, "I haven't finished my treatment yet."

She watched him for a moment and then smiled, her eyes drifting shut as she once more relaxed into his heavenly touch. "You know, you've got truly magical fingers," she murmured appreciatively, as a tremendous sense of well-being enveloped her. "That's one more thing I'm going to get used to."

"Good," he said softly and with a hint of a smile. His fingers stilled suddenly and he let out a small breath. "Sara, would you like to have dinner with me?"

Her eyes snapped open with surprise. "Dinner?"

He smiled his small crooked smile, his gaze enquiring, pleading.

"Like dinner, dinner?" she asked.

He gave a slow uncertain nod of the head.

She frowned and he gently began stroking the tip of his fingers over the worry lines around her eyes. "But I thought you said-"

He shrugged her concern off. "I know what I said but I still want to do it."

"What's changed your mind?"

He shrugged again and bent down to kiss her on the lips. "You."

Sara grinned up at him. "I've nothing to wear," she said musingly.

"That's a yes?"

She reached up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "Oh, yes."

He gave a low amused chuckle. "Good."

"But what will I wear?" she asked again, her query genuine.

"Come just the way you are, Sara. I wouldn't have you any other way."

She pursed her face. "In my bathing suit?"

His shoulder lifted. "I've kept the Speedos."

Sara chuckled and reached up for another kiss, which he was more that happy to return. "Let's do it then," she said with a wide grin.

The steamed-up glass door suddenly opened and a couple of older women stepped in, chatting animatedly and pausing just long enough to acknowledge Grissom and Sara's presence in the sauna. Grissom immediately snatched his hands off Sara's face while Sara swung her legs to the side ready to sit up but the discreet yet firm pressure he put on her shoulders stopped her in her tracks.

She looked up, her enquiring gaze meeting his worried one. "You okay?" she asked with puzzlement.

Grissom gave an almost imperceptible nod of the head toward the two women. They were still fully engrossed in their conversation as they took a seat on the opposite side of the U-shaped seating area and were paying no attention whatsoever to the two lovebirds.

Sara's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" she mouthed discreetly.

He shook his head briskly and then seemed to force a smile in the women's direction. Thinking that Grissom knew them, Sara chanced a look but didn't recognise either. She flicked her gaze back to his face and noticed that he was looking more and more discomfited.

"Come on," she said, once more trying to sit up, "Let's go. I'm about to turn into a prune anyway."

Grissom pressed a gentle hand on her shoulder, keeping her down and then wiped some sweat from his eyes. "Just another minute," he said quietly.

Sara's eyes asked, "What's the matter?"

His widened as he replied in a hushed whisper, "You know full well what's wrong, Miss Sidle, so stop acting all innocent on me!"

"Oh." Her lips pinched. So that was the slight bird-like twitching she could feel against her ear.

_Let's have a little fun,_ her inner voice suggested.

_Oh, no, I couldn't, _Sara thought with a shiver._ God, who do you take me for? _

_Come on, Sara, live a little; no one needs to know._

_He wouldn't like it._

_Wouldn't he?_

Sara pondered that thought and threw a discreet glance toward the two women. They were still chatting quietly but their heads were thrown back, their eyes closed. She shifted a tad higher onto his lap and turned her face toward the slight bulge of his shorts, grinning mischievously.

Grissom shook his head, his wide disbelieving eyes closing and she saw his throat constrict painfully, the low groan of tortured pleasure her proximity caused vibrating all the way down to her but thankfully never passing his lips. His breath hitching a little, he reclined against the back rest, his hands spread wide onto the bench as he shifted position and crossed his legs at the ankles, feigning dozing off.

_See? He's not stopping you._

_That's because he trusts me._

_Is it?_

Sara's grin couldn't be wider. She slowly stroked her face against the taut shaft of his penis, closing her eyes and sighing as the flames in the pit of her stomach rekindled spreading tingling warmth between her legs.

"Miss Sidle, huh?" she said in a hoarse whisper reopening her eyes as she teased her mouth nearer his pulsating member.

His lips twitched into the hint of a smile. "Yeah," he said in a gasped breath.

"Not honey?"

He smiled wider. "No."

"I like it when you call me honey," she said, in a teasing pout.

One eye cracked open. "You do, huh?"

"Yeah," she admitted almost reluctantly.

He glanced toward the two women and then back into her eyes. They stared silently, heatedly into each other's eyes for a moment and then Grissom said in an almost silent murmur, "I like it when you call me babe."

The breath caught in Sara's throat. _God, how I love this man._

_Tell him._

The door to the sauna opened and closed and they both turned toward it; the women had left, leaving them to their own devices. Sara turned back toward Grissom who'd resumed his former stance, eyes closed, face relaxed and content as though their impassioned exchange had never taken place.

_Oh, you think you're in control, do you? _she thought. "Babe," she whispered, sitting up and shuffling onto his lap.

His eyes snapped open wide, alarmed and he jerked his head toward the door. "Sara…" His plea was weak, his hands automatically moving to her hips.

"Baby," she whispered back sensually as she wriggled over him and teased her mouth tantalisingly close to his.

"God, Sara, you're so…desirable." He suddenly lunged forward, capturing her lips hungrily, her moan of excited pleasure drowning in his, and then just as quickly pulled back, leaving her high and dry. "You are a naughty girl – a very naughty girl, _Miss Sidle_ but I got enough self-control for the both of us." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "You won't get me to fall for your wicked ways."

Sara shrugged mildly, her face creasing with mock-annoyance. "It was worth a try." She winked and detangled herself from his lap. "Come on," she said, taking his hand and gently pulling him up to his feet, "I could do with a very cold shower just about right now."

* * *

When Sara got to her locker for the very next shift, there were two Twinkie cakes waiting for her. She frowned, lifting the first one to read the folded-down note attached to it.

_This one's from me,_ Grissom's neat handwriting informed her._ The other one was already there. We need to get to the bottom of this, Sara – and fast. I don't like it one bit._ Sara smiled at his sweetness. _Dinner. Tomorrow night. I'll come and pick you up._ _9 pm. Wear something nice. Oh, and don't forget to pack an overnight bag._

_Something nice?_ Sara thought with alarm as she mentally scanned her gaze over the poor content of her wardrobe. _Something _nice_?_

_What happened to come just the way you are, huh?_ her inner voice piped in.

_Shut up._

Sara turned the note over but that was it. She grinned in giddy anticipation of her first real date with the man she'd loved almost her entire life before catching her reflection in the mirror. She looked young, happy and carefree, and radiant too. Being in love suited her. And she was confident at how things were progressing with Grissom. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined a better start to a romantic relationship with him. It exceeded all her expectations.

Sara stared at her reflection and dreamily touched up her hair.

"I'll come and pick you up at nine sharp," was all he'd say when probed. To her, where are you taking me?, what should I wear? or are you sure about this? He'd only reply, "Nine, on the dot, your front door. The rest, leave up to me."

She sighed, wondering again if she'd done herself up right. Her dating experience was limited, to say the least. She'd applied the slightest trace of eye shadow, lipstick and mascara, dabbed the barest hint of Chanel, a free sample she couldn't remember getting. Her hair was up and pinned back into some kind of loose French bun thing, and she'd left a few ringlets of chocolate curls to cascade along the vast expanse of her neck.

The dress, well, she'd debated buying a new one for the occasion and then hadn't had the time, so she was now wearing the only dress she owned that wasn't a court dress, one she'd only worn once for the wedding of a Harvard friend of hers, a good ten years previously. Surprisingly, the dress still fitted her like a glove. Black and elegant, it moulded her slender form perfectly, stopped just below the knee and was cut to enhance her small cleavage.

She smoothed the fabric down and turned, peering over her shoulder to look at her reflection from behind.

_For someone who should come just as they are, Sara, you don't look all that confortable, _her inner voice reflected.

_I don't feel it either._

"Maybe I should just change," she told herself in a sigh, stooping to slip her stocking feet into rarely-worn medium-heeled open-toed sling backs.

She was pulling out a skirt and silk top from her wardrobe to get changed into when the shrill sound of the doorbell startled her. She threw a frenzied look at her alarm clock. "Shit! He's early," she muttered under her breath and then breezily, "Just a second."

She picked up her purse from the bed, almost running in her haste to get to the front door. On habit more than conscious thought she looked through the peephole. _Shit._ Her heart sank but too late to feign absence now, she glanced down at herself and slowly turned the lock, opening the door a crack. Hiding her body from view, she popped her head round the door.

"Greg! What are you doing here?" she said casually enough. "Shouldn't you be at work?" She checked behind the CSI's shoulder for signs of Grissom. "You know what Grissom will do to you if you're late for shift, don't you?" she said loudly.

"He's off tonight," Greg replied with an easy grin. "I've already clocked in and am on my way to a B and E in Hendersen."

Sara pulled a face at his smugness. "So? What do you want?"

Greg craned his neck round the door. "Aren't you going to let me in?"

"Nope. I'm just out of the shower, still dripping wet."

_Nice one,_ Sara's inner voice whispered; the sarcasm dripping from it would make Brass proud.

_Shut up._

Greg's smile was almost lustful . "I don't mind." Sara pursed her face at him. "You look lovely, by the way," he added a little self-consciously.

Sara brought a hand to her hair, her face creasing into a grin of pleasure, and moved out from behind the door. "You think so?"

"Yeah," he said his eyes widening with awe at the sight of her dolled up to the nines. "Definitely."

She could tell the young CSI died to quiz her about her date but he didn't. He just swayed on his feet for a moment, smiling goofily and then exclaimed, "Oh. I nearly forgot. I came by to return this." He fished a key out of his pocket and held it out.

Sara's gaze narrowed suspiciously and she took the key. "Where did you find it? I didn't even know I'd lost it."

"In the car lot at CSI. It must have fallen out of your pocket when you left this morning."

Sara eyed her locker key with a little distrust. "Yeah, it must have. Thanks, Greg," she smiled, looking up, her gaze veering toward the staircase.

"Okay, I get the hint," Greg said in a chuckle as he made to leave. "I'm not level one for nothing."

"Thanks, Greg. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Yeah, and I'll want all the saucy details."

"Sure," Sara replied distractedly.

Greg frowned and looked behind him, then dipped his head in good bye and turned on his heels.

"Stay safe!" she called to his retreating back. Then she closed the door noisily and leaned back against it for a moment, thinking she'd - they'd - had a lucky escape before scrambling to her purse for her cell.


	20. Chapter 20

_Okay. Okay,_ Grissom told himself as he tried to calm his racing heart after climbing the stairs two at a time._ He's gone. He's gone. This is fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine._

_We're all fine, _his inner voice echoed with exasperation. _Ring the damn doorbell already._

Greg's presence at Sara's apartment on their first real date had put a dent in his confidence. It was fortuitous, he kept telling himself, and would neither jinx his night with Sara nor their relationship. He wouldn't let it. Maybe he could have the young wannabe criminalist transferred to CSI's equivalent of Siberia; the dayshift could always do with spare hands.

_You do that. Now ring the bell. You're late enough as it is._

Grissom lifted his hand to the bell and then dropped it hesitantly by his side.

Having the boy pine for his woman he could handle, it was flattering after all, but not if it threatened their burgeoning relationship. What he had going with Sara filled him with joy and anticipation, a sense of belonging and purpose on a personal level he had never encountered before. For the first time in his life he thought he not only knew what love was but also what it felt like and despite being out of his depth and utterly terrified by what lay ahead he wouldn't have it any other way now. Nothing would jeopardise his and Sara's happiness.

Dayshift for Greg it was.

_You've already said that. Now ring the damn doorbell. _

Grissom closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, and cupped the palm of his hand over his mouth, blowing into it, checking for bad breath. Good. He straightened the collar of his shirt and the knot of his tie, ran a quick hand through his newly-cropped hair, checked his jacket's inner pocket and without further ado rang the doorbell.

He wasn't nervous. He wasn't worried. He was…confident.

_Are you?_ his inner voice asked with amazed disbelief.

_I am, _Grissom replied with assurance.

_You could have fooled me but you won't fool her._

_Shut up._

He'd meticulously planned the evening down to the last detail. It would be…perfect, wouldn't it?

_Oh, God, please have mercy. Make this night perfect._

The door opened abruptly, a hand grabbing him by the tie and hauling him inside, the door slamming noisily shut after him. Startled out of his wits, he found himself propelled with force into Sara's arms.

He didn't complain.

He smiled and lovingly wrapped his strong arms around her. "Well, I've missed you too, honey," he cooed amusedly, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"You're late," she said, pushing away from him. She looked and sounded agitated, almost neurotic.

Grissom's smile vanished and with it the last of his already shaky confidence. Alarmed, he stepped back from her embrace. "I'm sorry. You didn't think I'd stood you up, did you? Only, I saw one of the lab's Denalis in your lot so I parked round the corner and laid in waiting until the coast was clear."

"It was Greg."

"I know."

"Why didn't you pick up your cell? I tried calling to warn you but-"

Grissom was looking more and more panicked. "I turned it off for the night. Sara, honey, you know what it's like; we're bound to be disturbed so I thought-"

"And you're sure he's gone?"

"Yeah," he breathed in a sigh. "I heard him talk on the phone to Catherine. She was asking why he wasn't at the crime scene already. He walked straight past me." Grissom chucked to himself a little uneasily. "He left in a cloud of smoke. He's gone, Sara, I'm sure of it."

"Okay. Okay. I believe you." Sara breathed a few times and then seemed to recover a semblance of composure. She touched up her hair and smoothed down her dress. "This is not how I imagined our date to start," she said at last, smiling a little self-consciously.

Grissom returned her smile with an awkward one of his own. "You look nice, by the way."

Sara's face fell, disappointment written all over it, and looked down at herself.

_You dork,_ his inner voice whispered. _You don't tell a woman she looks _nice!

Grissom scrunched his eyes shut, kicking himself for his faux pas. This really wasn't going as planned. He met Sara's gaze and lifted his index finger indicating that she should bear with him an instant. She frowned and he grinned at her. He quickly opened the front door, stepped out of her apartment and closed the door after him.

_Come on, Gilly,_ he told himself. _Take two. Don't mess it up._

He took a few deep breaths, touched up his tie, smoothed his short curls, licked his lips and rang the doorbell a second time. He heard Sara's giggle and then the door opened, a lot slower this time.

She was calmer, her grin amused, indulgent. He thought she'd never looked lovelier than she did then. She was positively radiant. He smiled back a little nervously and took a moment to brush his gaze down the length of her body slowly, languorously, appreciatively, taking in the effort she'd put in her appearance, and then brought his gaze back up to meet her eyes. Suddenly, she looked as nervous as he felt.

"You look beautiful," he murmured leaning across to brush his lips over her cheek, feeling her relax into a genuine smile. "And smell divine," he added into her ear before pulling back, his wide smile showing appreciation.

"You don't look bad yourself," she replied, tugging him gently by the tie toward her, blushing and smiling demurely.

He cupped her face and their lips met into a soft kiss. Grissom startled slightly and pulled back, remembering the gift he had for her. He looked down, reaching into his jacket pocket and then back up to her face. Her wide eyes were steadfast on the velvet box he'd pulled out and he dipped his head, seeking her gaze.

He smiled a little shyly. "I-I-" He shrugged and licked his lips nervously. "I got you something."

He held out the box and watched as trembling fingers rose from her side and brushed against his as she took the box. Her eyes darted up to his with surprise and then back to the gift.

"Open it," he said softly. "If you don't like it, we can go change it but I thought…well, I saw it and I thought…" he sighed and lifted his shoulder hesitantly, "I just wanted you to have it. Open it. Please."

She looked up and met his gaze. The love he saw there rendered him speechless, almost bringing tears to his eyes.

_Tell her,_ his inner voice coaxed gently.

"I-I…" they both said simultaneously before bursting into a quiet and slightly awkward laughter.

"You first," he said.

Sara shrugged. "I don't know what to say."

"Then, just open it."

Sara did, gently prising the lid up while Grissom held his breath. Her reaction was textbook – gasp of surprise followed by a shaky hand flying to her mouth. Then she looked up, the tears shining in her eyes making her look even more radiant, more...God how he loved her.

His smile when he pulled the chain out of the box, the small diamond solitaire pendant shimmering softly in the evening light, was tentative and unsure. He watched her for a moment, uncertainly, hesitantly before moving behind her, slipping the chain around her neck and speechless, Sara dipped her head so he could fasten the clasp.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her nape and closed his eyes. He felt utterly overwhelmed, overcome by his feelings for her and he took in a shaky breath. "We should go," he said in a croak.

Sara turned and reopened her eyes, a wistful, almost subdued smile to her lips. She looked as overawed as he felt, which was of some comfort to him. "Thank you," she said, seemingly finding her voice again. She looked down and picked up the pendant, her fingers quivering with the shock of receiving such gorgeous gift. "It's beautiful," she added quietly, meeting his gaze.

_Now! Do it now,_ his inner voice shrieked.

"_You're_ beautiful," he said softly, causing Sara to look away shyly. He coaxed her face up and kissed her tenderly on the lips. "I'd have gotten you the matching earrings but I noticed your ears aren't pierced."

_Show off._

Sara's hand flew to her ear. "You noticed my ears aren't pierced?" she said, stunned.

He smiled and shrugged before taking her hand and the overnight bag sitting by the door. "Let's go or we'll be late."

_Coward._

_Shut up,_ Grissom barked in reply.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, grabbing her purse as he opened the door, leading her out.

"It's a surprise."

_God, you're shaking like a teenager on his first date._

_I feel like one._

_It's not like you've not…you know…gone to third base with her before. The outcome as Warrick would say is a dead cert._

Grissom shook the voice out of his head. _Thanks for the pep talk. Now, shut up and let me do this my way._

The ride in the Mercedes was a silent one. Sara looked puzzled throughout, her glance flicking from the landscape flashing past them to his face and back again. Grissom noticed that the fingers of her right hand never stopped fingering the pendant that sat perfectly just above the top of her dress and he smiled, content. The gift had been a good idea after all; he had debated long and hard with himself before purchasing it, worried that it was too much, too soon but Sara seemed to like it.

He took a right turn, headed down Las Vegas Boulevard and turned toward her. "It's not much further now."

"We're not going back to your place?"

"No."

Sara's frown deepened and she turned on the seat toward him, her look enquiring. "I don't get it, Gil. I thought you hated this – the noise, the crowds, the lights."

"I do."

"I thought _this_," she said gesturing toward the flashy hotels, the casinos, brash Vegas, "would be your idea of the nightmare date."

"It is."

"Because it's mine too, you know, just in case you thought I'd like this kind of stuff."

"I know it is," he replied levelly.

Sara was being Sara and wouldn't put up with his calm evasiveness. "So?"

He sighed, pulled the car to a stop at a red light and turned toward her. "Sometimes you find peace, quiet and beauty in the middle of chaos."

Sara pursed her face thoughtfully but a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Am I supposed to guess which enlightened individual came up with such depth?"

Grissom laughed. "No. It's…" He shook his head, "Never mind." He glanced at her and then back at the road. "A little patience, my dear, and all will be revealed. We're almost there."

_Maybe she's not going to like where I'm taking her_, he told his inner voice with sudden insecurity. _They're showing The Maltese Falcon on cable and we-_

_She's going to love it. Now, smile and go as planned._

He felt her fingers comb through his hair and snapped out of his thoughts, turning toward her. "We're almost there, I promise," he reassured again.

She returned his smile with a wide, caught-out-staring grin but didn't remove her hand. "I like your hair a little longer," she said thoughtfully, "a little curlier."

"I thought shorter would make me look…"

"Younger?" Grissom gave a small begrudging shrug in acquiescence. "That's silly," Sara said in all seriousness.

He picked up her hand and squeezing it warmly. "I'll keep your advice in mind next time I have it cut then," he replied with a happy wink before pulling off at the lights. "Anything else I need to know?"

Sara pursed her lips in amusement. "I'll let you know in due course."

He laughed. "Of that I have no doubt." He slowed down and took a right turn. "We're there. I hope you're not disappointed," he said glancing at her. The shine in her eyes was heart-warming, the beatific smile dancing on her lips heavenly and somehow he knew that their evening would be the stuff of his dreams.

She brought their joined hands to her lips. "Oh, I won't be, Gil. I know I won't be. I just haven't a clue what you've got planned and I'm not used to …"

"Not being in charge?" he hazarded not so randomly.

She pursed her face good-humouredly. "Being surprised like this; it's still very new to me."

He pulled into the Eclipse rear parking lot and into a reserved spot. "It's very new to me too, honey." He cut the engine and turned toward her, magically conjuring up a silk black blindfold. "We can learn together."

Sara's brow arched. "Are we skipping straight to dessert?"

Grissom chuckled. "No. Turn around and trust me."

"I do."

"Relax," he said, motioning with his hand for her to turn.

She did turn, if a little reluctantly. "And why the need for …?" she waved her hand toward the blindfold.

"Let's just say that I'm working hard on keeping a little mystique to our date and that…"

She turned back toward him. "You mean we're going in the back way."

His smile was positively tickled. "Yeah."

Sara giggled. "All right." She turned round again, offering the back of her head to him. "I promise not to peek and spoil the surprise."

"Thank you," he said over-emphatically.

They did go in to the Eclipse through the staff's rear entrance, down a long, dark corridor and up the staff's elevator to the twentieth floor. Grissom looked up toward the ceiling and smiled as the elevator doors slid open, nodding his head at the security camera zooming in on them, as laughing and chatting he guided Sara to a room mid-floor, easing the key card he fished out of his pocket into the slot. With a backward glance and a nod to the red flashing light still following them, he opened the door, led Sara in, tossed their overnight bags on the bed, and his hand still in the crook of her elbow, headed straight for the balcony.

_She's going to love it,_ his inner voice said.

_You think so?_

_Just take the damn blindfold off and you'll see._

Without a word, Grissom pulled the knot and eased the blindfold off a smiling and unsuspecting Sara.

She blinked a few times. "How did you manage this?" she gasped in awe, turning around toward him.

He shrugged. "How many crime scenes have we worked here over the years?" he asked rhetorically. To her disbelieving arch of the brow he added, "The night manager's a friend of mine. A fellow collector," he added a little sheepishly.

"Ah."

"So?"

"It's a little…It's very…" She shook her head, her eyes wide with wonderment. "Wow! Gil, it's absolutely..."

* * *

A/N: I had a wide grin on my face while writing this chapter. I hope you did while reading it. One more chapter, I think. Have a great weekend.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: This is getting far too long...

* * *

"Too much?" he provided when words failed her.

Sara stared open-mouthed at the scene before her. The balcony had been transformed into a make-shift private room, large cream drapes covering the walls from top to bottom fluttering softly in the breeze. A table for two was set in the middle, two tall candles burning brightly in its centre, and all under the soft glow of the full moon and the multitude of stars lighting up the sky.

_Remember this dating thing is new to him too,_ her inner voice reminded her a little cynically. _He's allowed to get it wrong._

_It's…beautiful,_ Sara awed silently.

Sara opened and closed her mouth, tears prickling at the back of her eyes. No one had ever gone to all that trouble for her before. No one had ever made her feel so special. She'd never mattered enough in the past to warrant such treatment, such attention, such love and devotion.

"Is it too clichéd?" Grissom asked hesitantly, startling Sara out of her dream. She turned toward him, looking straight at the hopeful optimism lighting his eyes. "Sara, love, your face gives you away," he went on, smiling bravely. "It's okay. I can see how-"

Her hand flew to his mouth, silencing him. "No, Gil." She licked her bottom lip anxiously and lifted her shoulder in a small shrug, still trying to find her voice, some words, any words to describe such beauty.

"We can-we could…I'm sorry…this was a bad idea," he was now saying, back-pedalling pitifully.

_Kiss him. Put him out of his misery. For goodness sake, do something. Just snap out of this stupor!_

Before he could say more she launched herself forward, capturing his lips with passion, shutting him up with a hungry kiss. Grissom registered a second of surprise before relaxing into her touch, and lifted his hands to her face, pulling her closer, moaning as he returned the kiss with as much fervour - if not more.

She was literally melting under his onslaught and yet she was the first to pull back, albeit reluctantly, shivering still at the wonderful intensity of his - their…desire. "This is perfect," she breathed, smiling into his eyes before smacking her lips to his mouth. She took his hand in hers and tugged him giddily to the edge of the balcony. "Sometimes you find peace, quiet and beauty in the middle of chaos," she whispered back to him with a grin.

Grissom chuckled at her remark and draped his arm over her shoulders while she leaned out over the railing and gazed at the view below; the shimmering lights of the landmarks on the Strip, the themed hotels and casinos, the ant-like crowds and moving traffic so loathed habitually were so eerily silent from such height that it painted an enchanting picture.

The wide grin never leaving her lips, Sara shook her head at the soft cool night breeze and took a deep breath of fresh air before casting her face skyward toward the vast expanse of cloudless night, stargazing at the constellations twinkling strikingly in the moonlight.

"It's absolutely mind-blowingly, jaw-droppingly stunning," she said at last, her face lit up with the sheer joy and wonderment of it all. "I have no words to-" She shrugged and lapsed into silence again, closing her eyes and letting it all wash over her.

"I have," he murmured into her ear, pulling her closer to him and pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

She turned and smiled. "I've never seen Vegas like this before."

"Never? You've been up here before."

"Sure - to process a room or a body, to view the aftermath of a crime. But never like this," she said, raising her hand to their surroundings. "The view, the setting-"

"Don't forget the company," he murmured bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it softly.

"You," she said with a twitch of her lips, meeting his gaze. "It's romantic. It's amazingly beautiful. This is the perfect first date."

"Not too clichéd?" he asked tentatively.

"No," she replied with assurance. "I've…" she sighed a little sadly, "I've never had the perfect first date before."

"Me neither." He began to laugh quietly to himself.

"What?" she asked laughing too.

He shrugged. "We're a right pair of nerds, aren't we?"

"Speak for yourself," she retorted with a playful pout.

"What I really wanted to do for our first date was to take you stargazing out to the desert - you, me, the stars and a good sleeping bag. But it's too cold this time of year and uncomfortable and full of sand and I thought that from up here we could have the same view."

"This is perfect, Gil. Everything, really. You're blowing me away." She smiled and leaned across for a kiss. "Next time…when you do take me out to the desert…just remind me to pack my thermal socks and underwear."

His eyes were twinkling with wickedness. "I look forward to it."

Sara stooped to slip her sling backs off. "Do you mind?" she asked, letting out a long breath of gratitude. "These are killing me. I don't know how Catherine does it."

Grissom chuckled. "Well, if we're making ourselves comfortable," he said already pulling the knot of his tie loose and undoing the top button of his shirt, "I might as well take this off." He promptly slung the tie on the back of a chair.

"And this," she said, slipping her hands under the lapels of his jacket and pulling it back off his shoulders.

Grissom was only too happy to comply and the jacket swiftly joined the tie. His grin disappeared suddenly, his eyes narrowing auspiciously. He was watching her in a strange kind of way and a shiver of excitement coursed through Sara's body.

He lifted his hand to her face and reached across to the back of her head, his touch ever so soft and tender, and slowly pulled out one of the pins holding her hair back. His breath hitched slightly, blowing hot on her skin as he leaned forward, his lips finding their way to the crook of her neck just below the ear.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears, Sara's chest heaved, a low moan of pleasure escaping as she tilted her head to the side. She reopened her eyes when he pulled away and watched as he pulled the second pin out, her hair spilling free in a cascade over her shoulders.

"I prefer your hair down," he breathed into her ear, attacking her earlobe.

Sara's moan this time was deep and feral, his words arousing her as much as his touch. She closed her eyes once again, her mouth parting to allow for a soft gasp, her fingers moving to his head, tugging at his curls until their mouths met in a frenzied kiss.

He pulled away far too soon, far too abruptly, and Sara's eyes drifted open suddenly, a tender loving and _knowing_ smile adorning her face. He was on the verge of losing his cool and self-control and they both knew it.

Sara recovered her composure quicker than he did and touched her hair demurely. "I'll keep your opinion in mind for next time," she said cheekily, repeating the words he'd told her in the car. "Anything else I need to know?" she asked, grinning her happiness.

"I'll let you know in due course," he replied, his voice still choked with unspent yearning. He swallowed and cleared his throat uneasily. "The food should be here shortly," he added. "Would you like a drink while we wait?"

"I'd love one," Sara said, turning to watch him and leaning back against the railing.

Grissom took the waiting champagne bottle out of the ice bucket, uncorked it expertly and poured them both a flute.

"There's this place on Lake Mead I thought you'd like," he said, holding out a flute to her. "I've been wanting to take you there for a while; they have this great calamari that I think you'd love."

Sara raised her glass to his and they clinked. She took a small sip. "Yeah?"

He smiled, bringing his own flute to his mouth. "Yeah. Trouble is I took Catherine there for her birthday back in 2001 and we-"

"And they think you and her-" Sara said with an encouraging smile when he began to hesitate.

He picked up a small plate of stuffed olives and offered her one. "God, no! Nothing like that but she's been back a few times since…well, _we've_ been back together a few times since as well and-"

"And you're worried they'll spill the beans." She speared a stuffed olive with a stick and brought it to her mouth, before quickly popping a second one and then a third. "These are good," she enthused, her mouth full. She chewed quickly and smiled a little self-consciously. "I'm sorry; I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm starving."

_That's right, Sidle,_ her inner voice said, _you just speak with your mouth full. _

_I'll be sharing a lot more than spit with him anyway,_ Sara retorted defiantly.

He smiled indulgently, watching as she stabbed a fourth olive. She looked up and smiled before offering him the olive. "Try one, they're very good," she said quietly.

He laughed and opened his mouth slowly so that she could pop the olive into his mouth and she watched him with intense yearning, as he slowly scraped his teeth along the stick before catching the olive n his mouth, remarking for the first time the arousing way the dimple on his chin danced while he ate.

_Girl, you got it bad!_

Sara looked back up to his eyes and smiled self-consciously.

They continued to talk animatedly, sipping champagne and laughing until a discreet knock at the door interrupted them. "That'll be our food," he said, moving indoors with a gentle bow of the head and promptly returning, wheeling a small room-service cart loaded with plates of food covered with shiny silver bell lids. Bowing, he held out his hand to her and showed her to her seat.

"You're taking this very seriously, aren't you?" she said as he pulled out the chair for her.

"Oh, yes," he said. "Everything's got to be absolutely perfect."

The food was exquisite; Grissom couldn't have chosen better, the conversation flowing back and forth enthusiastic. After a while, Sara put her fork down and watched Grissom while he ate. Something was troubling him, she could tell.

Sensing her eyes on him, he looked up with alarm and immediately brought his hand to wipe the corner of his mouth. "What?" he asked still chewing the last of his mouthful. "Have I got food everywhere?"

Sara shook her head, her look slightly wistful. "We're hiding in plain sight, I guess," she said wondering if all the secrecy was playing on his mind.

He pursed his face in thought and wiped his mouth again. "If it works for the criminals why not for us, huh?"

Sara read the melancholy in his eyes and reached out her hand across the table to his. "I'm happy like this, you know? Just the two of us, like that. It's enough for me. More than I could ever wish for."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Me too."

"We'll find our somewhere special too, you'll see," she continued brightly. "Even if we have to go out of state for it."

"Mmm," he agreed distractedly.

Sara frowned. "What's troubling you, Gil?"

He shook his head. "It's silly. You're going to laugh."

Her brow rose in interest. "I promise not to."

He shrugged. "I was thinking about this Twinkie cake business. Any idea who your secret admirer is?"

Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "I never would have taken you for a jealous man, Gil Grissom," she teased.

"I've never had to share you before," he replied in all seriousness.

She frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I think Greg's behind it," he said. "I think he knows about the two of us."

"Greg's okay. If he does he won't say anything."

"He has a crush on you."

Sara blushed. "You know about that?"

"Sara, the whole lab knows about it, hell PD knows about it…I may give the impression I'm totally clueless as regards what happens around me but I keep my ears to the ground – albeit from higher up."

Sara giggled. "And it bothers you? Greg?"

"A little. I know it shouldn't but-"

"I'll speak to him but," she paused and sighed, "I honestly thought Ecklie was behind the cakes."

A brow rose. "Ecklie? No. It can't be. It's too dangerous for him and his career. It's…too childish a gesture to be from him."

"He did see the four boxes in my cart the other Sunday when we went shopping."

Grissom lifted his shoulder and sighed in doubt. "Maybe we could fit a camera in the locker room."

"Like that's going to go down well with the others."

"Hey guys," Grissom said, putting on his CSI voice, "Sorry to invade your privacy like that but we're trying to find out who's leaving Sara romantic gifts."

"It _is_ kind of romantic, isn't it?" Sara mused.

"Mmm," Grissom hummed, narrowing his eyes at her, causing Sara to burst out laughing.

"I'll ask Greg tomorrow-"

"Something's missing," Grissom muttered unexpectedly, cutting her off. He looked at the table, at the balcony and then through the patio doors toward the room, as though doing a mental check.

Sara started at the sudden change in him. "Gil, is everything alright?"

"Something's missing," he repeated musingly. "Music," he suddenly exclaimed, his chair scraping back noisily as he got his feet. "I forgot the damn music."

Sara laughed and watched him disappear inside the room and come back smiling triumphantly. He walked to Sara's side and waited for the music to start playing before holding out his hand to her. "May I?"

_What, no desert?_ Sara's inner voice whispered with regret.

Sara beamed up at him and swung her legs round. "I'd love to."

Grissom quickly pushed the table to the side and pulled Sara to him with a twirl before wrapping his free arm around her shoulder, his right hand clasping her left one tightly to his chest. He smiled and began to sway gently to the music, Sara settling into his embrace and to his pace, with her head on his shoulder, as though they'd been dancing together like this their whole lives.

"I'm not even surprised at the fact that you can dance," she remarked after a moment spent in silent contemplation, "but I am at the choice of music."

"I grew up with this," he replied quietly.

"Led Zeppelin's _Stairway to Heaven_," she mused with scepticism, "go figure."

His only reply was to laugh and twirl her round a couple of times on the make-shift dance floor on the balcony.

"I'm going to send him to days," Grissom said quietly as they settled once more to a quiet rhythm.

"What, Greg?" Sara asked with surprise. "Why? I just need to talk to him. Ask him to stop. Tell him it's not appropriate."

"Sara, I can't be working with him, watching him every day pine for the woman I love."

The breath caught in Sara's throat and her feet stopped moving. "You love me?" she uttered in a disbelieving gasp, pulling back from him enough to make eye contact.

His soft smile broadened and he lifted a shoulder in a small shrug, letting go of her hand to push a strand of hair out of her eyes. He watched her for a long moment, Led Zeppelin's eight-minute immaculate rendition reaching its climax, before smiling and kissing her tenderly on the lips. "I love you."

Sara's smile when he pulled back was a bad disguise for her tears. "Just like that?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Just like that," he repeated simply. "I've loved you for ever, Sara and now that I know what it _feels_ like I-" words failed him and he shrugged helplessly.

Her eyes averted downward briefly but when she raised them again there were swimming with unshed tears.

"Sara," he gasped. "You okay? I'm sorry. It's too early, isn't it? I'm overwhelming you - I shouldn't have said anything. I-"

"I've waited my whole life for you to say those words to me," she said, cutting in, a shy smile on her lips. "No man's ever said that to me before."

"I love you." Her smile quivered and he added, laughing, "You're going to have to get used to it. I probably won't tell you as often as I should and I'm sure at some point I'll do something to make you question it but Sara, I've loved you since the first day I saw you in that lecture room. It just took me longer than the average man to do something about it."

"You're not the average man," she remarked, her eyes twinkling.

"I'll take that as a good thing."

"It is."

He nodded his understanding.

"I'm glad my apartment flooded," she said, grinning now.

"I'm glad you fell asleep in the truck during shift."

Her grin widened. "I'm glad your couch was so uncomfortable."

"Me too."

"You should keep it."

His brow rose in surprise.

She shrugged. "That way…if – when – we have a disagreement which we're bound to have at some point," he smiled, nodding his agreement, "we'll have to settle it straightaway. No going off skulking to the couch."

"I don't skulk," he remarked softly.

"I do," Sara said quietly.

Grissom laughed. "What about Greg?"

"Let him pine for me and give me gifts if he wants to, he's no threat. On the contrary, it might help put the others off the scent."

Grissom pursed his mouth in thought. "I was looking forward to sending him to Siberia."

"Wouldn't that have been a tad harsh?"

"Days isn't that bad."

"Days is the pits and Greg has the potential of being a great CSI."

Grissom eyed Sara with suspicion. "You're sure you're not pining for him just a little?"

"I've only ever loved one man in my life," she retorted quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Their lips met into a kiss that was neither rushed nor frenzied but long and slow and deep. Sara gave a small gasp, pulling back suddenly as the opening riffs of Wild Horses drifted on and eyed him with narrowed eyes as she realised that his choice of music wasn't so random after all but rather a careful selection from her most-listened-to songs. His lips curled into a mischeivous smile but he merely resumed his dancing stance and Sara happily nestled herself snug against him.

"You've done your homework," she remarked quietly after a moment.

"I always do my homework," he replied with a soft chuckle, gently easing the back zipper of her dress all the way down and pulling back to watch the dress slither down to the floor.

* * *

A/N: Almost naked and frolicking... Kathy, am I going the right way about it? ;-)

One more, I think…because I promised Rage-edit some smut. I wish I planned those stories better.

Led Zeppelin's _Stairway to Heaven_ and The Rolling Stones _Wild Horses_ sadly aren't mine but both provided great inspiration for this chapter. Although I'm thinking Grissom and Sara would have probably listened to The Sundays' cover of it. I hope you enjoyed it. Have a great weekend!


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: I apologise for how all over the place this chapter is; I got carried away. I was giving Young Guns II another chance while finishing this – not his best, is it? It's the third time they show the film on TV this week here in the UK! - and I got distracted by BP's wolf-like sideburns and then by the handlebar moustache. Actually, I was imagining Grissom with said sideburns…

Sorry, where were we? Oh, yes, …pulling back to watch the dress slither down to the floor.

____

_

* * *

_

Take it slow, his inner voice coached. _________Not too fast. Think of the game plan. Remember what we talked about._

_The hell with the game plan._

His hands found her face, her breasts, her hips, her ass, his body pressing urgently against hers as they kissed and kissed and kissed some more. God, he was so hard. Sara's hands flew to his chest, quick fingers making small work of his shirt buttons while he unhooked her bra.

There was a discreet knock at the door and Grissom closed his eyes, sighing inwardly. He pulled back from her, his breath coming thick and fast, and smiled sheepishly.

____

_Dessert?_ his inner voice asked.

_Yeah,_ he replied in a pant.

"I'll be right back," he told Sara, pressing one last kiss onto her lips before breaking apart and moving backward to the door.

"Bathroom," Sara mouthed, taking advantage of the situation to grab her overnight bag from the bed and disappear from view.

Grissom waited until she was gone to open the door a crack, indeed taking delivery of dessert. He tipped the waiter handsomely, told him they wouldn't need him until the morning and closed the door quietly.

"Honey, you can come out now," he called, "the coast is clear."

He heard no reply but the sound of running water and giggling. He frowned, his lips pursing with delighted glee as he wondered what she was up to, and dashed to the balcony to top up their flutes before rushing back to the bathroom, grabbing their _dessert_ on the way.

The door was slightly ajar and he pushed it wider with his foot, his load balancing precariously in his hands. He frowned again and then froze on catching her reflection in the mirror. Sara was totally naked, but for the blindfold covering her eyes and the wide grin of giddy expectation lighting her face.

His breath caught, the aching in his pants intensifying as he ran his gaze up and down her body. Their dessert almost fell to the floor. She was so beautiful, so desirable and so…strangely uninhibited.

____

_A little tipsy, maybe?_

_That's…good, isn't it?_

He swallowed. "Thirsty?" he asked, the timbre of his voice suddenly mirroring his state of arousal. The flutes clinked noisily in his hands, spilling the sweet beverage all over the floor.

"No," she replied.

____

_Nice one._

Grissom set his load down on the countertop, quickly gulping down the content of his flute. He took a deep breath before selecting a strawberry from the bowl and bringing it tantalisingly close to her lips. "Open wide," he whispered.

Sara's face registered surprise and then she licked her lips wantonly, her top one first and then the bottom one, slowly, deliberately, all the while smiling her appreciation, her yearning. "Dessert?" she inquired, her mouth opening, her tongue darting out as she bit into the proffered strawberry.

"Oh, yes," he gasped, hungrily lapping the juice running down her chin and popping the second half of the strawberry in his mouth. He met her lips with passion, his hands moving to the back of her head to pull the knot of the blindfold loose. The garment fell to the floor.

He pulled back, made eye contact, his darkened gaze smiling his desire and intentions. "I want to be able to watch you when you come," he explained in an almost inaudible whisper.

Sara's hands flew to his face, her mouth parting with a loud moan of deep, intense pleasure which he captured in a searing kiss, one hand moving to her face, stroking over her throat, her breasts, kneading hungrily, needily, desperately while the other moved to cup her ass.

"God, Sara," he panted, his lips finding her throat again, her collar bone, her breast, "I promised myself I'd make slow love to you tonight."

"There's always tomorrow," she murmured in a gasp, her leg brushing upward against his pant leg as she pulled his head back by the hair up to her face.

While he toed his shoes off, Sara's hands moved to his open shirt, the garment quickly joining the blindfold on the floor, soon followed by his dress pants, his boxers and socks. He took hold of her wrists, pinning them up against the wall above her head with one hand, stooping to brush his other hand all over her body and tease his tongue down to her breast, snaking it around the areola, capturing her nipple between his lips, licking, sucking, nibbling, lapping her up with all his might.

Sara's eyes were closed, her body arched up toward him, grinding against him, the low moans and pants coming and going with every one of his licks and caresses becoming louder the bolder he got.

His hand moved to her sex, its palm pressing ardently into her, feeling her arousal seep through to his skin as he spread her legs apart, his mouth replacing his hand as he knelt down before her.

Sara gave a small yelp, her eyes snapping open with surprise. She looked down at herself, meeting his gaze with matching burning desire and he watched her from below as he teased his tongue over her clit, small circles becoming larger, deeper until he felt her tighten and contract around him, her whole body quivering and shuddering as she came, their eyes locked throughout.

When the very last shudder of her orgasm had passed through her she pulled him up to his feet, smiling and panting, looking into his eyes with such love and longing that he felt humbled. Her face was flushed and sweaty from the rush, her hair dishevelled and yet she was still by far the most amazing woman he had laid eyes on.

She licked her lips, smiling mischievously as she teasingly ran her hands down his chest, over the swell of his stomach to the tip of his erection. Her eyes never left his as she stroked a slow hand down the shaft of his taut penis, to his testicles, stopping to cup and massage them.

"Oh, God, Sara," he gasped, closing his eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his body's response.

"Open your eyes," she said in a murmur, "I want to watch you come."

His blue orbs reopened slowly. "Take me to bed," he grunted, his lips once again seeking her mouth.

She did and soon, both sated – well, arguably Sara more than him – they lay naked and breathless atop the bed in each other's arms.

"You know, we never did eat our dessert," he mused with an amused twitch of his lips after a moment before getting up from the bed to fetch their drinks and the bowl of strawberries from the bathroom.

"Well, I'm not complaining," Sara said as he returned, stretching her long body on the bed and grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat.

He shook his head and leaned down over her to kiss the tip of her nose before settling once more in her arms.

"You know," she said a little hesitantly as she picked a strawberry from the bowl resting on his stomach, "I do believe they're showing the Maltese Falcon on cable tonight."

His brow rose and he chuckled, his head shaking in disbelief. Yet, he silently reached for the remote control, switching the television on and flicking through to the correct channel until Humphrey Bogart filled the plasma screen.

"This is nice," he remarked munching on a strawberry as the film reached its climax.

She laughed. "What? You and me in bed with a good murder mystery?" He chuckled, shrugging. "You know, we could have done all this back at your place or even at mine."

He laughed and scanned his gaze over the darkened room. "We don't have to clear up the mess here and…" he trailed off hesitantly.

"And what?"

"There's a hot tub."

Sara lifted her head from his chest, turning toward him. "A hot tub?"

He nodded. "You wanna try it?"

Sara repressed a shiver of disgust. "You're kidding me? No thanks. You know what these places are like, the wildlife that breeds in there…brrr."

A look of amusement crossed his face. "I had the water changed and the thing scrubbed and sanitized."

"You didn't!"

He cocked his brow and got up from the bed. "Just give it a few minutes to reach temperature," he said suggestively as he disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

Grissom woke as a dot of sunshine touched his nose. He turned toward Sara's side, his hand feeling for her body but although still warm, the spot beside him was empty. He opened his eyes, narrowing them painfully as daylight hit his pupils.

"Honey? Sara?" he called.

"I'm in here," came her muffled reply.

Grissom untangled himself out of the bed sheets and joined her in the bathroom. She was about to step inside the shower cubicle. "You okay?" he asked.

She turned and smiled. "Just brushing my teeth," she mumbled turning the taps on. "What time do we have to be out of here for?"

"Not for ages."

"Care to join me?" she asked.

There was a loud knock on the door and Grissom turned toward it and then back toward Sara, hesitating. She was oblivious, hot steamy water already pounding on her skin and he sighed a little regretfully.

"Leave the tray by the door," he called from the bathroom. "Thank you."

There was a pause and then another loud knock.

Grissom cursed, reached for a plush white towelling robe and hurriedly slipped it on. He grabbed his wallet, shaking his head at the twenty-dollar bill he pulled out – the smallest he had – tightened the belt on the robe and opened the door, slipping the bill through the small crack. "Thank you," he repeated.

He felt some pressure as a hand pushed the door toward him. "Sir, LVPD," Greg's voice said.

_Shit! Double shit!_

He glanced toward the bathroom, pocketed the bill and opened the door wider, warily scanning up and down the corridor while forcefully hauling Greg into the room by the collar of his CSI windbreak. "What do you want?" he said through gritted teeth.

Greg smoothed himself down, his gaze quickly scanning around the lavish room. "Date rape gone wrong upstairs," he said, raising his eyes to the floor above. "I don't suppose you heard or saw anything?"

"Nope. I saw or heard nothing." Grissom glanced toward the bathroom. "So you can go now."

Greg smiled. "Well, no. I'm not here to canvass. That would be poor use of CSI resources. I'm here to search your drains."

"Not now, Greg," Grissom said, his voice raising. The shower stopped and both men's heads snapped round toward the bathroom. Grissom opened the door again, forcefully escorting Greg out of the room by the elbow. "Come back in fifteen minutes."

Greg's smirk was perceptive. "Sure. Say "Hi" to _Charlotte_ for me."

"I will. Now go and don't come back."

"You said to come back in fift-"

"Gil? I was thinking…" came Sara's voice.

Grissom scrunched his eyes shut, freezing on the spot while Greg's face lit up with a snug I-knew-it grin. "Breathe a word of this to anyone and-"

"…next time maybe we _could_ try this place on Lake Mead," Sara went on, "we'll just have to-"

"Oh, my lips are sealed," Greg told Grissom, his gaze meeting Sara's dead on as she came into the room. "Who's the lucky bitch now, huh?" he asked her with a smirk.

Grissom flinched at Greg's words but he could tell from the way Sara reacted that the words were merely a reference to a joke he wasn't privy to. He and Sara exchanged looks and Grissom shrugged helplessly.

"Listen Greg," Sara said, stifling her smile, "I won't tell you it's not how it looks because it is but-"

Greg laughed heartily. "Oh Sara…how could you do this to me?" he play-acted, bringing his hand over his heart as though mortally wounded.

Sara punched him hard on the arm. "Goodbye, Greg," she said feigning offence.

"Wow, wow, wait a minute," Grissom exclaimed, grabbing Greg by the arm and back into the room. He looked at Sara with worry. "We can't just let him go."

Sara's brow arched. "What do you propose? That we detain him here indefinitely? That we cut him up and hide his body?"

Grissom shrugged. "We got the means," he deadpanned.

Sara smiled. "Greg's okay. He won't say anything, will you Greg?" she said narrowing her eyes menacingly.

"As I said to your…_boyfriend_ here," Greg said, nodding his head at Grissom and zipping his lips shut with his fingers, "my lips are sealed."

Grissom frowned. "There's no crime scene upstairs, is there?" he asked as realisation dawned. "There's no upstairs. And it was you who gave Sara those Twinkie cakes."

"Very good, Mr Holmes," Greg said with a bow of the head.

"How did you know we'd be here?" Grissom asked. "In this hotel, in this very room?"

Greg waggled his brow mysteriously.

"How did you find out?"

Greg looked at Sara and smiled. "Elementary, my dear Watson. I followed the clues. First, Grissom, I caught _you_ eyeing our dear Sleeping Beauty while she slept in the Denali and I knew from the look on your face that it was only a matter of time before you _finally _made your move. So I watched you like a hawk. Charlotte was, I'll admit it, a confusing and slightly off-putting subterfuge but you never really had me fooled. Remember I'm learning from the best," he said turning and bowing his head at Sara. "And the other week in the locker room? Well, not only could I smell the sweet smell of sex on you but most importantly I could smell Grissom."

Both Grissom and Sara scrunched their faces up with disgust.

"Get out of here," Grissom said once more lifting Greg by the collar of his jacket and out of the door. "And breathed a word of this to anyone and…and…you're dead meat." He slammed the door shut after a laughing Greg. "What do we do now?" he asked Sara, clearly concerned by the turn of events.

"We do nothing." Her giggle faded in an instant and she shrugged. "You worried about it?"

"You know him best. Can we trust him?"

"Yes," Sara said with assurance. "Greg's a lot of things but he's no snitch. Besides, he knows how much you mean to me – has known for a long time. He just thought it was…unrequited."

Grissom nodded gravely.

"What is it?" Sara asked.

"I quite liked it when it was just the two of us knowing," he mused with a little sadness.

"What, like having one over on the guys?"

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "Kind of."

"I recognise this look, Gil. What are you thinking?"

"Nothing." He gave a small scoff. "That's the problem, I wasn't thinking."

Alarm was beginning to creep over Sara's face. "You're not making sense."

"Sara, on the contrary. Honey, it makes perfect sense."

Alarm made way to puzzlement. "What does?"

"For us to get married," he said as though it was obvious.

And puzzlement to astonishment. "What?"

"Why not? I've only ever loved one woman in my life and I'm not getting any younger and my mother's always said-"

"I don't know, Gil."

"What's stopping us?"

"Work? The fact that you're my boss and we'd both get the sack. The fact that only a few weeks ago I thought there would never be a you and I, let alone a till death do us part?"

Grissom waved the issue aside. "I was a jerk then. I'm a changed man. Beside, married or not, we're already breaking the rules. We might as well break them fully." He paused, looking at her imploringly.

Her grin stretched wide and she framed his face with her hands as she pulled him to her for a kiss. "Okay. Let's do it."

___

* * *

_

THE END.

* * *

A/S: Okay so let's face it; I've totally lost my mind but I promised fluff and I hope I delivered even if tongue-in-cheek. Thank you My Kate for you know what.

Thank you all for reading and putting the story in your favourites, as so many of you have done, and for all the wonderful reviews you've left; they've truly made this journey very memorable for me.

* * *

Outtakes/Deleted scene:

"Okay. Let's do it."

"Yeah?"

She nodded earnestly. "Yeah."

He took her by the hand and out of the door. "Okay. There's a chapel downstairs. Let's do it now before you change your mind."

She laughed and tugged him back by the hand. "In this?" she said, indicating the matching robe to his she wore.

He paused. "It's white," he remarked with a purse of his lips and a shrug of the shoulder.

* * *

A/S 2: At that point I was cracking up so much I had to stop typing. I should never have had that glass of wine instead of my diet coke! Thanks for reading.


End file.
